Beauty in the Mundane Moments
by ZombieJazz
Summary: A series of stand-alone, non-chronological ONE-SHOTS set in Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans, A Step At A Time, The Night Before AU. Olivia Benson navigates the job, parenthood and marriage while trying to find the difficult work-life-family balance that comes with being a cop.
1. Family

**Title: Beauty in the Mundane Moments**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: A series of stand-alone, non-chronological ONE-SHOTS set in Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans, A Step At A Time, The Night Before AU. Olivia Benson navigates the job, parenthood and marriage while trying to find the difficult work-life-family balance that comes with being a cop.**

**PLEASE NOTE: These chapters are stand-alone SCENES or one-shots. This is not a chronological story and there is no purposeful continuity. It is just a collection of moments. Some will reflect random ideas or potentially fun, humorous, heavy scenes to write with these characters. Others will expand on a scene from an episode (past or present) or recast the way a scene went while imaging it in this AU. Others will take a kernel from an episode and use it as inspiration for how these characters might've interacted with it going forward. Wherever possible, a year, season number or episode name will be provided to give some context of the general timeframe of the scene — to provide some guidance on where the characters are at mentally/emotionally and the ages of the children.**

TIMEFRAME: October 2019, set in S21E06 – Murdered At a Bad Address

Olivia swung at the hand of Benji clutched in hers a bit as they wandered off the ferry and up into the Pier 6 park area.

It was the long way home – but her kids rarely turned down the opportunity to ride any of the ferries. Their fascination with being on a boat was endless – much to Cragen's chagrin. Not that he'd done a great job converting either of them into fishermen that summer. Both kids much preferred to see their fish and sharks live – in an aquarium or gazing down into a pond – not squirming violently on a hook. There'd been tears that their Captain was 'killing living things!'. There'd actually been an almost 24-hour period where Emmy refused to talk to him and crossed her arms and looked away any time Cragen tried to her. Telling her that was being very rude only resulted in the arms uncrossing to slap her hands over her ears instead. So, Olivia didn't think Cragen had found new fishing buddies for when he wasn't snowbirding. And he definitely hadn't found them for if they got a Florida visit in again in the near future. Olivia suspected Emily might almost need a contract exclusively stating that 'Captain won't kill any fish' for her to consider going back to the condo without … being Emmy about it.

But, despite the fishing catastrophe, the amusement factor of ferries hadn't let up. Though, she supposed you didn't exactly cast a line off them. She would say, though, she'd seen other rather unsightly behavior in the past she'd had to shoo her kids away from or outright go over and badge because she couldn't tolerate it. And, after picking up the kids from the Ninja-Parkor open junior gym over on the other pier – closest to her work – she could tell Emmy still needed more time to run her sillies out. Benji, on the other hand, after a rough birthday weekend and being pulled out of school early by Daddy to go for some of his monthly blood work that day, had him still acting a little sulky and a little draggy. So Olivia had kind of hoped the ride on the ferry and a stop in one of their favorite parks would kill two birds with one stone. Tire Emmy out enough that bedtime might actually happen at a decent hour that night. And, cheer Benji up so she actually got her smiley, chatty little boy for the hours between her finishing her work-day and tucking her kids into bed.

Emmy was trotting ahead of them at full speed. Her daughter didn't skip. She almost outright galloped. Though, there'd been a time when Benji had too. Maybe that's just what having a six-year-old was all about. She was up and at the drinking water fountain in an instant – slurping at it like she was dying of dehydration, up in her tippy-toes to reach the stream. Her head popped up to check to see where her and Benji were. Not there yet. But they weren't in the kind of hurry she was.

"You guys are slow!" Emmy called at them, running part way back and hopping to a stop to let them know.

"Slow and steady wins the race," Olivia called up at her.

It was a bit of a motto they'd been preaching at Benji on some of his harder days. It didn't matter what something got done – it was getting up, getting moving, and working towards reaching that finish-line. That there'd be a lot of times in his life he'd be surprised that picking away at something slow and steady might yield him better results than that other kid who just rushed through everything.

Life isn't a race. So said the woman days away from her fifty-first birthday and raising two grade-school-aged kids. You get there eventually. Somehow.

"Nope-nope," Emmy said, hopping some more in that one stop. She was just full of beans. "I dah rabbit, not the turtle."

And she dashed over to the fountain again to take another drink – getting water all over her face and seemingly loving it. She might not need a bath that night at the rate she was going. If water from a Brooklyn park's drinking fountain could really be classified as something you'd want your kid bathing themselves in with any kind of outcome that could be classified as 'clean' in the end.

"Do you need a drink?" Olivia asked Benji as they caught up.

He gazed at her a bit. "I think I need my electrolytes," he told her a little guiltily. "But I drank all my water at Ninja class …"

Olivia sighed at him a bit. "Benj, you know part of being responsible for managing your health is remembering to do things like that. Keep hydrated, avoid overheating, take breaks, take your medicine when your alarm goes off."

He gave her puppy dog eyes.

"Mommy, can we go to dah Marsh Garden instead of dah playground?" Emmy asked.

"Just a second, Emily," Olivia scolded her gently. "You shouldn't interrupt people when they're talking."

"Peeeeezzzz, peeeeeeeeeeeez, peeeeeeeezzzzzzzz!" Emmy whined.

Olivia gave her a mildly annoyed look. But Emily didn't notice. Her eyes were squinted shut, her hands clasped like she was praying to the Heavens as she whimpered out this request. Olivia shook her head a bit. Emily loved the drama.

"No," Olivia said, "Bu—"

"Peeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeezzzz," Emmy whined out even harder – near shaking with the intensity of it.

Olivia put her hand on her little girl's forehead and brought her eyes down from their Heaven-gazing plea.

"Don't interrupt, Emily," she said with an even firmness.

Emily opened her eyes and offered her the puppy dog look too. Olivia near rolled her eyes at that.

"We are not going to walk all the way over to the Marsh Garden tonight," she said.

"Buuuuut whhhhhhy?" Emily shook and very nearly stomped. Olivia saw her foot twitch like she wanted to – really wanted to. But like she remembered at the last second that toddler-like tantrums with foot stomping were increasingly getting chastised and rarely getting her what she wanted these days.

"Because it's getting late," she said. "At the rate we're going, Daddy might get home before us."

"Daddy would let us play in dah Marsh Garden," Emmy tried.

Olivia allowed an amused sound at that. They both knew that Brian most definitely would not in a million years be tromping through the maze-like trails of the Marsh Garden, dealing with all the gooey mud Emmy could scoop up and then rub all over her pants, every stray twig that the kids could use as swords or whips to flail at each other and Emmy picking up insects by their legs and wings for you to take care of for her and explaining why you're pulling them away quickly from that 'balloon' they've found among the brush and want to claim to have you blow up for them, at twilight on a school-night. No, the Marsh Garden was almost exclusively a weekend morning activity where you were prepared to endure the area for hours or had the time and resources to still quickly suggest an activity that was way more fun for the parents while also being intriguing enough for the kids to upsurp the evening of laundry and mopping the floors that a visit to the Marsh Garden always brought along with it.

Olivia just pointed, though. "You can go ahead of us to Swing Valley," she said of the playground space closest and most in-sight to them. "We'll catch up after we've filled your brother's water bottle."

She squinted like she was going to argue. But then she was off like a shot. "I gonna get the Tar-zin rope first, BUBBA!"

Benji made his annoyed noise. Not a little Little Fox anymore and when his little sister got to him it still sounded like he let out a low growl. But Olivia would still take that over the two of them bickering and arguing with each other – about all the stupid, petty, parentally-annoying little things that brothers and sisters seemed to get into it about.

"Shh," she hushed at him. "She's little – and she's your sister."

"She's being so … EXTRA!" Benji huffed again.

Olivia rolled her eyes a little. "I really wish you wouldn't talk like that."

She hated some of these words and slang that had entered the English vocabulary. She'd almost hoped her kids were sort of immune to some of it. Her and Brian were careful about screen-time, and online time, and video-games, and what television programming they got to watch, and what they streamed and what they were watching on YouTube (Ryan had been blocked and banned in their house; that kid and his toys drove Brian bat-shit crazy, but it wasn't like she was sad to see him go either). But the advent of middle school seemed to mean that tweens were upping the ante in trying to be 'cool' (if that even counted as modern-day slang anymore). So Benji was starting to bring home more and more language (swear words and slang words and general abominations of the English language) into their home, along with more and more requests about all that media consumption too. She was pretty sure he was very close to cluing into her and Brian being on the strict-end of the parenting spectrum and that he'd likely decide they were some sort of tyrants and made them pay for that during his teens.

"But, she gotta do the Tarzan rope into the foam pit like six times at the gym. So whyz she gotta go and be like that now."

"Whyz you gotta get all extra about your lil' sis," Olivia attempted to sass back at him.

He just squinted at her. Benji hadn't quite mastered the art of the tween talk-back yet. There were actually some times where Olivia thought it was less that he hadn't mastered it and more that there was still some part of him that was afraid that if he wasn't a 'good boy' that he might get cast away – so he bit his tongue.

So she drew in her sass too and looked at him more directly. "Somewhere, Benj, your grandma is rolling in her grave about what your generation is doing to the English language." His look softened a bit at that and she just gestured at him. "C'mon, give me your bottle. Get the electrolyte packet out of your bag."

He still exhaled some annoyance that he reserved for Mom at her for Mommy Fox nagging. But more days than not, Olivia almost loved that part of being a mom too. She'd pretty much settled into the reality that if she wasn't at least annoying her kids, she probably wasn't doing the job right.

Benji handed her the bottle and she started filling it up under stream of the drinking fountain while he continued to dig around for the powder that had gotten buried somewhere in his bag. At least it better be buried somewhere in his bag – or else they'd have to go into retraining mode on getting Benji to manage certain parts of his health himself in the hours he wasn't with Mom and Dad checking in on him and monitoring him constantly.

"Can't find it?" she asked – casually for now. But that might be changing depending on the answer.

"I only see red. It's gross. It tastes like medicine."

Olivia rubbed her eyebrow with her free hand as she watched the bottle fill. The angle it was one wasn't lending it to an expedient fill at all and the powder didn't really dissolve properly if you didn't have the bottle near brimming with water.

"It is medicine," she said.

"Yea, but the green and the blue don't taste like medicine," Benji muttered. "They had pink at the pharmacy last time with Dad. It's new. The pharmacist said it's supposed to taste like watermelon but it wasn't in the variety pack and Dad said we weren't going to try something I might not like when we know I like—"

"Olivia …," she heard called out.

The voice sounded familiar but she couldn't quite place it. But, also since Benji started at the Math and Science Middle School, she was finding that the Parent-Teacher Association moms were almost militant about demanding family involvement. They were more likely to spot and recognize her than she was them. Sometimes it seemed like they had a sixth sense for finding other MS-Squared parents and cornering them off-school grounds.

But her face changed – her jaw dropping a bit as she looked up to search for the source of the voice, and who she saw.

"Simon …," she mouthed, trying to pull together her surprise.

But she could already feel Benji's line of sight questioningly tracking the direction of her gaze and then taking in the man was closing the gap to them – and along with him a waft of stale beer, a patchy beard and a stained tshirt covering the flab of middle-age in his mid-section.

"It is you," he said. "I thought it was you!"

Olivia almost unconsciously – consciously – started to position herself protectively blocking access to the child she could see Simon staring at with almost too much shocked amazement. She grabbed at the little electrolyte packet in Benji's hand and quickly worked to tear it open and blindly dump it into the water bottle, giving it a good shake.

"Hi, I'm Simon," he said to her son – not her. He was standing closer to Benji than either her or her son would like from this strange adult man he didn't know.

"Ah …," Olivia said as Simon continued to gaze at Benji like he expected a response. She pressed the water bottle into her son's chest gently. "Why don't you go catch up with your sister?"

She could see Benji assessing that request – assessing this man in front of her, measuring her safety and their safety, the situation as a whole.

"It's alright," Olivia said. "I just need you to go watch Ducky for me, OK?"

Benji looked between her and Simon again but then accepted the bottle and started to trudge up the path to the lawn of swings just ahead of them. He gave her a backward glance.

"Just stay in sight, please," she called and gave him a firm nod.

He gave her another squint. She could see it from there. But then he turned back to his short trek to the playground area.

Simon watched her son go intently, his eyes intermittently scanning. She suspected he was looking ahead to the swing sets trying to spot who Benji's sister was, which child on the near-vacant play area.

"His sister?" Simon whispered. "Are they yours?"

Olivia assessed him again. She weighed the situation and presence of this man – her half-brother by the man who'd raped her mother. A 'brother' who'd used her existence and position in the NYPD only when it was to his benefit. And, apparently she hadn't served any benefit in his life for … almost eight years.

"I mean, they're yours," Simon said almost excitedly, looking back at her. "That eye thing he was doing."

He gestured almost manically at his face and those pale eyes of his that really were only a shade or two lighter than the magically grey-blue eyes in her little boy. She didn't like seeing – making – that connection.

She lighted her sunglasses – unsure where or how to place her attention. She wanted to change positions – so she could watch her children and so he wasn't looking at her kids. She could see that Benji had made it to Emily and Simon was now grinning like a near mad-man in their direction.

Emmy was standing on the end of the Tarzan line while her older brother batted at her and jumped out of the path of her swings like it was some kind of tether-ball game. A dangerous one, because Olivia could see Benji was still giving them wayward glances, and there were some near misses from the way his sister was jumping her knees and wriggling her body, clinging to the rope to try to get it to change directions. The ultimate goal of this 'game' likely was actually for her to give Benji some kind of bruise. Any 'game' between her kids usual resulted in someone having a bruise, bloody nose, scrapped knee, or in the very least hurt feelings. The joys of siblings. Something she hadn't experienced as a child but had always thought she wanted. But standing right in front of her now was a stark reminder of how much having 'blood' relatives could hurt.

"He looks just like you," Simon said, and stepped toward the playground's path in a way, that allowed Olivia to do a little do-si-do with him. She swooped to pick up Benji's backpack from the ground and moved so as he looked back at her, his back was to the kids and she had full sight of them.

She rested her sunglasses on her head and started to fiddle with the zippers on Benji's backpack.

She'd previously been cursing how much the zippers on this brand new middle school cool backpack seemed to stick. She'd almost been at the point that she was ready to take it back to the store and demand a refund. It hadn't exactly been a bargain-basement price on the thing. But Brian insisted the problem was the zipper it was the basketball Benji insisted on stuffing in there and the skateboard he insisted strapping on the back and the extra food and snacks she put in there and then still expected anything school-related to fit and the closures to shut. She wasn't sure she agreed. Though, in that moment she was happy to have something to fiddle with and look busy with – like this encounter wasn't jarring her at all.

"Ah, actually, general consensus is he looks just like his dad and his sister looks more like me," she muttered. "Personality wise, it's a different story. Vice versa."

"Woooow," Simon managed, looking at her in some kind of awe. Though, she also noted on some level, he wasn't offering to help while she struggled to get the bag to close. "So I have a niece and nephew, and you didn't tell me?"

She cast him a bit of a look at that. She'd admit – not to him – that she'd made a conscious decision not to advise him about the kids. Or anything else in her life. She really hadn't wanted Simon anywhere near them. Or the all the emotional and legal wreckage he left in his wake. But it hadn't just been on her.

Simon had hated her after he'd had to accept a plea that included jail time. His time in jail had been short-lived do to overcrowding but even in her efforts to visit him, he'd veered between refusing to come to the visitors' room or just seething at her the entire visit. When he was released on probation and could no long have unsupervised access to his children, he'd cut her out of his life. Again. She hadn't heard from him since 2012. Since before she was a mother. And, she really hadn't ever expected to hear from him again. In fact, she'd hoped she wouldn't.

He caught her look, though. "No, you're right. That's on me. I haven't exactly been in touch." He looked over his shoulder again. "What are their names?"

Olivia considered that. "Emily and Benjamin," she allowed after a heavy pause.

Simon let out a little laugh. "Really. Ben Benson?"

She gave him a thin – condescending – smile. She'd heard that joke and comment more times than she could count.

But Simon's eyes tracked again – this time to her fidgeting fingers on the backpack. And her engagement and wedding bands.

"But you're married," he said with some kind of added shock and a little head shake.

"I am …," she allowed.

"So not Ben Benson," he smiled at her. "They have their dad's name?"

She gave him a neutral … somewhere between a smile and a frown. It was the best she could manage on either end. "They do."

She wasn't giving more than that to his question either. She wasn't going to quantify or clarify. Or explain.

He just shook his head and smiled so widely at her. It was likely he couldn't see how uncomfortable she was or just couldn't contain himself about how … happy? … this encounter was making him. And Olivia couldn't decide how that made her feel.

"How old are they?" he just glowed.

She gave up on the struggle to shut the bag in its current state and scooped the basketball out of it. Brian maintained the problem with the bag wasn't the zipper – it was the contents Benji insisted on dragging around with him. Another holdover from his turbulent toddler-hood. Anything Benji deemed as potentially necessary or of value to him was almost always in his possession – just in case. He was getting better about it. But he also wasn't.

"Hey, he plays basketball?" Simon said happily. "I played basketball. I was pretty good."

Olivia eyed him. "So was I," she said – shutting down any delusion that family – her mother's rapist's – genetics were at play and attributable. But also refusing to define or explain the emergence and make-up of her family to this man. "So does his dad."

"OK, fair enough," he said, holding up a hand in some kind of peace offering. "But … how old are they? Ben looked like … what? Eight?" He hand went up to his forehead, scrubbing up into his unwashed-looking hair. "Oh, wait. God. Were you pregnant in 2012? With all that going on with me and Tracy and the kids? And CPS and jail? Oh my God. I'm sorry."

Olivia stared at him. She took in the actual regret and horror painted on his face. But she felt like she'd seen that look before. And been fooled by it. Because he had – offered – something she thought she wanted then. Things she wanted so badly she'd put herself in a vulnerable position. She'd been too willing to believe his bullshit. But she had a family now. She was a mother now. And she didn't think she was buying any of thing. But something about it was keeping her from shutting this down and pushing him away as quickly as she could.

She looked back to the zipper, tucking the basketball under her arm, and zipped the bag shut. "Emily is six. Benji's ten," she said and then shook her head in quiet correction. "He's eleven. His birthday was the other day."

She could feel Simon taking another pause. He was staring at her. Olivia looked up at him – and those eyes that were pale and cloudy enough, only to see some sort of glassy gaze there now. So she looked beyond him and up to the kids.

They'd transferred over to the more traditional swings. Though, they weren't exactly using them in the traditional way. They were pulling them as far back as they could, then running as far forward as the chains would let them, until to flop their chests against the seat and swing back and forth like they were flying toward some superhero mission. It didn't look safe. And it wasn't. Both of the kids had had bloody knees, sore armpits and ribs and scrapped chins to prove it. Benji had the stitches in his chin to prove it – and now the accompanying scar. The 'superhero scar' as it'd been labelled in the family. Perhaps mistakenly, because the scare – or the scar – sure hadn't done anything to dissuade either of her children from using the swings that way.

"Eleven?" Simon spouted at her. "So … so he was around when … all that stuff with me and Tracy and my kids … and you didn't tell me?"

Olivia exhaled. No, she wasn't going to tell him that Benji wasn't a part of her life back in the winter of 2012. She wasn't going to tell him that he was nearing the month to the day that her little boy did arrive in her life of that same year. That just six months after Simon had waved the promise of family – of having a child in her life, a baby niece in her life, people to have Sunday dinners and holidays and park and museum outings with – she'd actually gotten to start her real family. The one that was meant for her but had taken years to achieve.

She looked back to him. She could see hurt – a pained puppy dog look that maybe was too close to the ones she kids gave her.

"Simon, what are you doing here?" she said to him – trying to keep her cool.

He shrugged a bit. "I moved back here a few years ago," he said. "Working at the Beer Warehouse," he added, pointing off to the warehouses ordering the park.

"Ah …," she said, following the line of sight.

"Yea, I know, right," he sighed and looked down at his clothing. "The smell. It's like impossible to get out of anything after a while. But, I tell you, it keeps you from going and blowing your pay check at the bar on pay day. Smelling like you just barely slept it off in a gutter has them cutting you off before you even start."

She allowed him a thin smile at that. As vulnerable as she'd allowed herself to be with him in the past, she hadn't filled him in on his mother's alcoholism and how little humor she saw in or time she had for over-drinking, binge-drinking and functional drunks.

Her face must've said something beyond the smile, though. "I'm clean," he added hastily. "And sober. Five years. I mean, look at this," he said thrusting his forearms at her – like she was so naïve she didn't know a functional, employed junkie didn't inject somewhere that visible. Or was more likely to be snorting their drug of choice – and their pay – up their nose. She also refrained comment on the intelligence behind anyone with an alcohol problem working in a beer warehouse. The access was probably a little too easy. But she also thought Simon's dependencies likely routed from his time as an pharmacy assistant and the easy access he had there to all kind of pharmaceuticals.

Olivia instead looked to his face. She looked into those eyes again – working on reading him in a way that always seemed more challenging in your personal life than professional one. She looked away, checking on the kids again, checking on the time she was letting herself miss out on them. For this. To give this man time.

"How's your family?" she put back to him. "Your children?"

He looked away from her. "I don't know," he mumbled with some hurt embarrassment. "Tracy took the kids. So I haven't seen her or them." His eyes found hers again and looked even sadder. "Basically since I last saw you."

It hung there. She could feel the loss radiating off him – and she wanted to be dismissive of it. Of him. Of a man who'd brought so much hurt – that ached in a way she didn't know entirely existed until she'd even learned she had a brother, a blood relative, family members left in the world. But putting up that kind of shield also wasn't her. Not in her personal, private life. And in many ways not with some of the victims she dealt with no matter how much she tried to compartmentalize. Sometimes she just cared too much. She empathized too much. So much so that Brian had accused her of not leaving enough space for herself. That there was such a thing as caring too much, he said.

But that also wasn't her. She did care. And Olivia couldn't imagine that loss. There'd been lots of instances in the early days of her guardianship of both her children that she had had to imagine that loss. That she'd really lived in fear of it. That even thinking about it broke her heart and carried this weight that made the months' and months' long process and adopting both her children that much heavier. So now – having cared for and raised and mothered these two little people who were so very much hers – she couldn't imagine losing them. She couldn't even comprehend the ache that loss would cause. Or how exactly she'd pull herself together to continue to move forward and exist as a functional human being.

"I'm sorry," though, was all she managed to say to him. All she allowed herself to say to him in that moment. But she was. She was sorry he had to go through that loss. She knew it wouldn't have been easy.

"I thought about asking you to track them down," he admitted almost sheepishly. "But I always end up making more trouble for you."

She sighed a little at that and again gazed passed him and to her kids. They'd scurried across the play area into the jungle gym canyon. They were both entangled in a giant geometric shape. Benji had scrambled all the way up to the top and was sitting bouncing on the heavy elasticized lines. Emmy was a bit further down – but not much. She was dangling inside the cube upside down. Knees hung over one rung and hands clinging to another while her arms where extended full length with near locked elbows while she dangled her head upside down whipping around her pigtails.

Olivia knew the kids loved getting to play in that section of the park. They loved to show of all their Ninja-Parkor-Circus-Acrobat-Gymnastic-Rock-Climbing-Grappling skills. But this wasn't inside with lots of foam and padding and harnesses at their disposal. Them being in that area always sent her heart pitter-pattering a little faster. She always felt like they were just one wayward stunt from an Emergency Room visit that included broken bones and a concussion. It was worse then them whipping their bikes and scooters and skateboards around the ramps at the skateboard parks. She definitely didn't like them hanging out there – literally – without her right by their side.

"Guys," she called up the path. She could tell Benji had heard and looked her way. Emmy's upside down head seemed to turn in her general direction. "Not without parental supervision. C'mon – swings or slides, please."

Benji slipped off his perch and dangled on the inside of the jungle gym – dropping to the ground. But his sister didn't immediately budge. He ducked out of one of the holes and Emmy took her time extracting herself but then did a flying leap into the springy ground coverings in the area – falling forward onto her hands. Olivia's breath caught for a second while she envisioned a broken wrist. But her little girl sprung up like that sponge covering in the park was some kind of trampoline and the two of them clearly took off on a race to the top of the Slide Mountain. She could tell Benji wasn't letting his little sister win – and she hope Emmy wasn't a sore loser when her brother was King of the Mountain.

She moved her eyes back to Simon. She knew that wasn't the response or reaction that he likely wanted. That he likely hoped that she would've assured him that he could contact her anytime about anything – especially about his family.

"I did see you – your picture - on the news …," he ventured. "Like … five years ago …"

"Ah …," she said. But it – the mention of Lewis and what she'd been through and what that had put her children through while she was gone and while she tried to find herself again when she came home - made her flinch a bit. It always did. Still. But this time the flinch made the basketball drop and it bounced a bit. She fumbled again as she reached to rebound it. Simon caught it bouncing it several times and then catching it in his palm and holding it out to her. "Thanks …" she muttered.

"But you're OK?" he asked. "I mean … you're all OK?"

She gave him a little nod. "We are."

"I'd like to make it up to you," he hurried a bit. "Some of the stuff I put you through. Some how."

"Simon …," she sighed.

"Maybe I can," he pressed. "You live here now? Brooklyn? Near here? I can take you out to lunch? You and the kids? And … and your husband? Maybe?"

She made a small sound. To her it sounded a little wounded but she hoped that Simon didn't know her well enough to realize that.

"Simon, I really don' think that's a good idea," she said, and she did start to move that time. She move passed him – away from him, toward her kids.

But he did realize that – at least the movement – and he stepped in front of her path. She gave him a warning look and he backed off a bit, at least half a step.

"Please," he pleaded. "Don't say no. You're my only family."

And, internally she knew he was playing her again. That Simon was a manipulator on some level. That it was a part of him, which it made her wonder how much of it was a part of her. That maybe she just channelled that part of her in a different way – to the job. To putting away people like … Simon and his father … her father … her mother's rapist.

But as a manipulator Simon knew that those emotions – having no family left in the world – was something she could relate to. Something she could feel in the depths of her beings – and he was using that language to try to get what he wanted. Whatever it was that he wanted this time. She had trouble believing that it was being a part of her life. Or getting to know his niece and nephew. Or meeting Brian. Just like she wasn't sure she entirely believed that a man with a record and a sobriety problem was working in a beer warehouse barely two miles from her home and neighboring a staple park of her family's.

"I'd like to get to know my niece and nephew," he tried – like she knew he would. "Even meet your husband. … What'd you say his name was …?"

"I didn't," she put flatly.

He gazed at her. "Oh, c'mon," he pressed again, giving her a little smile. "I mean, it sounds like I owe Ben a birthday present. … And, you too for that matter, right? Your birthday? It's October, isn't it?"

She sighed.

"How about Thursday? Lunch? No … early bird special. Dinner? After the kids are outta school. You're off work. It's my day off."

She just gazed passed him again. At her kids.

"Or whatever," Simon added hastily. "You pick. The time. The place. I can meet you anywhere. Wherever you want."

She stared at her kids. At Emily going down the slide on her belly, feet first and her big brother holding back a trio of likely-kindergarteners that wanted to go down the slide too. But he was protecting his sister from getting kicked in the face. Sometimes Olivia kind of felt like she needed – wanted - that kind of protection too.

She felt like she knew this was going to be a giant face kick and yet she felt herself looking back to Simon. And even though she didn't immediately say the words, she knew her face had told him 'yes'. And Simon made a little 'yes' jab in the air with his fist all of his own.

Olivia looked beyond him again to see her Little Fox looking at her from up on top of that mountain. And she tried to give him a little smile. Just like she thought – even from that distance – Benji tried to smile back.

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**Reader feedback, reviews and comments are appreciated. **

**Ideas and suggestions for scenes (or inspiration for a scene) sent by DM are considered and maybe written in the future.**


	2. Be Mine

**Title: Beauty in the Mundane Moments**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: A series of stand-alone, non-chronological ONE-SHOTS set in Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans, A Step At A Time, The Night Before AU. Olivia Benson navigates the job, parenthood and marriage while trying to find the difficult work-life-family balance that comes with being a cop.**

**PLEASE NOTE: These chapters are stand-alone SCENES or one-shots. This is not a chronological story and there is no purposeful continuity. It is just a collection of moments. Some will reflect random ideas or potentially fun, humorous, heavy scenes to write with these characters. Others will expand on a scene from an episode (past or present) or recast the way a scene went while imaging it in this AU. Others will take a kernel from an episode and use it as inspiration for how these characters might've interacted with it going forward. Wherever possible, a year, season number or episode name will be provided to give some context of the general timeframe of the scene — to provide some guidance on where the characters are at mentally/emotionally and the ages of the children.**

TIMEFRAME: February 14, 2020

Olivia looked up at the rap on the side of the doorframe of her office. Rollins was standing there with a coy smile on her face as she cradled a flower arrangement in the crook of her arm.

"Special delivery," Rollins teased.

Olivia raised an eyebrow at her. "You shouldn't have," she said.

It got a more real smile out of Rollins, who wasn't quick to give anyone a smile that looked much like that most days. But she stepped in and handed them off to Olivia as she stood to retrieve the gift.

"You know, I've been working here eight years now. I'd say at least five or six of which you've been shacked-up with Cassidy – and can't help but notice this is the first Valentine's Day he's sent you flowers at the office," Rollins said as she set the vase and a little gift bag on the corner of the desk with the least amount of space.

Olivia made her own amused noise. "It's the first time he's sent me flowers at the office, period," Olivia muttered.

But she couldn't help but smile a little as she stood from her desk to take a look at the flowers. Brian knew what she liked. It was a beautiful arrangement. Stunning, really. Red and pink roses, oriental lilies, gerberas and carnations mixed with greens and whites of chrysanthemums and statice. All delicately arranged in a tinted, heavy glass vase that would be a keeper and tied with a heart-decorated bow. A little much – and she was sure the price tag on it was probably a little much too.

"So, I've gotta ask, what'd he do …?" Rollins teased a bit again.

Olivia only allowed her another small amused smile, but she reached for card amid the foliage and opened the envelope.

"Forensic profiler in me sorta feels like there's something in the ALL-CAPS of the CAPTAIN on written on that envelope too," her detective pressed.

Olivia rubbed her eyebrow a bit at that comment – but reserved comment as she read Brian's neatly-sloppy writing that always shifted between lower-case and upper-case – usually mid-word.

"SuNSHiNe:

ToDay May nOt be a reaL hOLiDay. But yOU MaKe every Day SUPer anD I ShOULD teLL yOU that MOre.

YOU are OUr family's SUPer POWer anD My WODer WOMaN. YOU're the reaL SUPer herO.

LOVe yOU LOtS, TrUST yOU MOre.

BRIaN"

She sighed a little at that and reached to take a peek into the little gift bag that had been sent up with the flowers.

"Jewellery or something to share with the whole class?" Rollin enquired.

Olivia made a slightly amused noise at that and pulled two little boxes of season BrickHeadz Lego animals out of the bag. A Bumble Bee Mine and a Puppy Love set.

"Not unless you feel like doing a Lego," she said.

Amanda scrunched up her nose at that. "And I thought he was doing pretty good with that flower arrangement," she said.

Olivia allowed her a little smile and shook her head, working to put Lego back in the bag.

"The Lego's for the kids," she explained. "Brian says he's not going to buy into the 'fake, commercial holidays' – and then every one of them he goes and gets the kids these sets." She closed her eyes a bit. "He's done it since Benji was really little. It's just … a thing now."

"And then he sends them to you?" Rollins asked with some notable confusion.

Olivia sighed a little and gestured at the flowers, but then worked to crease the card from Brian several times and to put it into her desk drawer.

"We've had … some challenges with … figuring out how to parent a child dealing with chronic illness lately with the new treatment plan Benji is on. And then having another child at home. A couple weeks ago, Brian and I had a blow-out about our approach and his … tendency to end up the super hero in any of it. To always be the good cop while I get to be the bad cop, meanie mom."

Rollins cringed a bit. "Don't think I would've wanted to see that come to blows."

Olivia just shook her head a bit. "It wasn't pretty," she muttered. "We've … done some work on it. And … we had a rough week with Benji … more related to the dyslexia than lupus. But just him getting so frustrated and stubborn about his schoolwork sometimes. Priorities and attitude. And … so many excuses. Trying to turn the lupus into a catch-all excuse. There's moments where … I see so much of his uncle … Jack, in him and I just …" she made her own frustrated sound, and clenched her fist. The urge to wring the child's neck if it would just get through to him. How much the pendulum could swing between her Little Fox, a sick little boy, a smartie pants middle schooler and this tween too big for his breeches in even a single day. It made her feel like she was in a pinball machine some days trying to get through to him.

"So Brian stepped up," she exhaled, "And he let Benji know last night that he wouldn't be getting any allowance this week. We usually have it set out at breakfast on Friday morning. And the last couple years, before their Winter Break, we've given him a bit of a top up so they can take some financial responsibility and money sense in what happens over the break. So, no allowance on Valentine's Day with tween angst and Secret Pal-entines and … whatever they are doing at his middle school that he wanted to toss money at. No allowance going into Winter Break. And no allowance as we are about to take a long weekend away. So we got to endure a bit of a tween tantrum last night that had not yet completely abated this morning." She lifted the bag with the Lego. "This is Brian's way of letting me decide if the kids get these this year. And, I guess, be the super hero to his meanie, if I decide to give them to them."

"Sounds like a rough night and rough start to the day," Rollins said. "And like you deserve those flowers."

Olivia allowed a dismissive sound.

"They are beautiful, Liv," Rollins tried. "And," she shrugged a bit, "Cassidy probably felt like you deserved them too. Above and beyond familial conflicts and politics."

Olivia adjusted the arrangement slightly. "Of course he decides – for once - to go and spend money on flowers when we're going to be away for three days. They'll probably be wilted by the time I'm here to enjoy them."

Amanda shrugged. "That's not usually what men are thinking about when they send flowers."

Olivia did allow her a small sound of acknowledgment at that and she sat back down behind her desk.

"You are still going away with this grounding going on at home?" Rollins asked.

Olivia nodded a little nod and folded her elbows up on the desk. "We are," she shrugged.

Actually, while Benji was having his meltdown, there'd been a threat to cancel the getaway if he didn't calm down and get himself under control and start acting respectful to his parents. After the kids had been put to bed her and Brian had continued to talk seriously about calling the hotel and cancelling their reservation. But they'd concluded that the whole family just needed a could days with a change of scenery. That her and Brian very much needed it. That cancelling would be punishing themselves as much as the kids. And it'd be punishing Emmy for her brother's actions and attitude when their little girl took so much of the brunt of having a chronically ill child in the family already. She didn't deserve to have something that they'd been talking about as a family for weeks taken away from her too.

There was also the hope that the change of scenery – and the dedicated time with their children – might be a bit of a reset for them. Maybe it'd help them get through the next few bumps in the road. Or at least give them the space to breath a little while they continued to try to regroup and move on from the scare they'd ended 2019 with – the effects which still seemed to be lingering into the new year.

Brian needed the distraction too. They were just about at the one-year mark where his bottled-up childhood secret had come tumbling out for too much of his whole professional and personal world to see. It was a band-aid that had been ripped off a wound that he'd barely even begun to let heal in the more than 30 years since it'd happened.

And, really – even though her and Brian had worked on that area of their life and their relationship and their communication as a couple and his healing – they also hadn't done nearly enough. A lot of their year had been filled with lupus and dyslexia and … Benji. Because they were getting to the one-year mark of lupus becoming their life in so many ways too.

And, Olivia recognized that that reality – and what Cassidy was dealing with in finding his personal definition of manhood and fatherhood within his survival of that trauma – had been part of the reason he was at times too much of a soft touch with their kids. It contributed to him wanting to be the good cop and the super hero for Benji. Because a father and a protector wasn't something he had in his life as a little boy. He hadn't had anyone to save him the way he needed to be saved. And, Olivia knew too, Brian often felt like he was failing as a man, husband, partner, father and even a boss at his office. But it smarted even more when he felt like he was failing his kids.

They lived a family life now where they near constantly felt like they were failing Benji. That they could protect him. That they couldn't save him. And it made it very challenging to be the parents he needed in day-to-day life. Not just the parents who cuddled and reassured and held him and cleaned him up when he was sick. They needed to be the parents who helped him to reach his full potential and to grow into the kind of man they could be proud of – and proud to see him one day go on to become a friend, husband, partner and father too. They couldn't do that for him if they were always the 'good guys' to him. It just didn't work that way.

It was hard for both of them. Olivia knew that. But she also understood that right now – in the timeframe they were in – it was a different kind of hard for Brian. So maybe the time away – as a family – would be good for his soul and well-being too.

The trip wasn't a reward. It was … them trying to survive. Trying to find balance. Just trying to keep their heads above water. Day after day after day.

"I'll be leaving in the early afternoon," she said. "Pick up the kids at school and hit the road. Or that's the plan."

She gestured at the phones, because you never really knew when a phone call was going to come in that completely derailed your plans. Olivia's hope was that she was leaving early enough in the day that she'd avoid that – and her location would be just far enough way that no one would expect her to come back early unless it was a real high-level emergency. The kind of case that One PP got involved in right from the get. Otherwise, Fin could handle it.

Though, he'd expressed his distaste about 'you know the kind of cases we catch on Valentine's Day. Hate Cupid's Day almost as much as I hate Halloween. You're leaving me to deal with all these entitled assholes that will be having their asses dragged in here?'

Olivia had shrugged it off, telling him that's what the detective on the lowest rung was for. Though there did tend to be an uptick in reported rapes and domestic violence around Valentine's Day – they almost always counted as what Olivia would classify as 'straight-forward' cases. As straight-forward as any case that involved this kind of so fundamentally personal form of attack was. But, it came down to the incidents being reported usually just consisted of taking some victim statements, collecting some rape kits, having the accused in, maybe asking for some warrants. By and large – it was paperwork. Lots and lots of paperwork. And, technically, Fin should be able to hand most of that off to Kat over the weekend.

But he'd still given her that look. "I know you got kids at home now, Liv. But Thanksgiving, Christmas and now Valentine's Day. That ginger-headed Mick hubby of yours better not be lookin' to take you out on St. Paddy's Day to go have some kinda corned beef in some kinda dive. Because I got a life too. I done my time too. And there were sure a lotta reasons I didn't want to go takin' that sergeant's exam. Case and point. I got your back – but it's getting' to the point, you owe me. And if you don't – Cassidy sure does."

She'd only patted him on the shoulder. "You're right. Only don't you owe Cassidy – for freeing up this spot in SVU for you. Putting you on this illustrious career track."

"Don't butter me up," he said. "I'm serious."

"I know," she'd given him a smile and a wink. But she'd also left for the day – to get the kids from their after-school care – while he was still sitting at his desk and mumbling about, 'hate how you and Rollins are always pulling the Mom Card. Only guy left in the Panty Unity and only one not wearing panties anymore.'

"C'mon, Fin," she'd called back at him. "You always knew who really wore the pants in this unit?"

"Sure did when it was you and Stabler," he muttered a bit more elevated her way. "Never thought I'd be missing Munch and his psycho babble so much."

She'd only smiled and got on the elevator. Leaving him to stew about his ruined non-planned plans for Valentine's.

Olivia on the other hand had real planned non-plans for Valentine's. Or President's Day weekend. Or the kick-off of New York Public School's Winter Break. Or the escapism of the one-year mark of Brian's trauma and Benji's lupus. It really didn't matter what label you put on it. What mattered was she was getting the hell out of the office – and out of the city – for a few days, which was a feat all unto itself as a cop and as a cop who was a parent.

"Where are you goin' again?" Rollins asked.

That did get a real sound of amusement out of Olivia and she looked the other woman in the eye. "Springfield, Massachusetts."

Rollins stared at her. Any significance to the small city was clearly not dawning on her readily.

"There one of those Great Wolf Lodges there or something?" she asked.

Olivia did snort out some amused distaste at that and shook her head. "No, dealing with our two little monsters will be more than enough on this getaway. We don't need to join the families of every other school district that's starting Winter Break with a long weekend at an indoor waterpark. And, I'd advise against ever letting anyone talk you into Great Wolf Lodge."

Amanda looked at her. "Really? 'Cuz Carisi's sister was tellin' me that it's worth putting some money away for when Billie's really walkin' and about out of diapers. Said it's basically a paradise for the grade school set."

"Ah, yes," Olivia nodded. "And, hence, it will in no way be a 'vacation' for the parents. Likely closer to one of the rings of Hell in Dante's Inferno."

Amanda gave a smile. "What about Legoland?" she said with a gesture at the bag containing the blocks. "Pretty sure that's gonna be the next big thing in the state. Think Carisi might be almost as excited about it as I'm assuming Benji is. Heaven on Earth for your guys and deeper into hell for you and Brian?"

Olivia smiled and shrugged. "All I know is that we won't be in the first hordes amassing at the gates to find out when that place opens. But I'll wager it's like more of a purgatory."

It got a quiet sound of amusement from Amanda.

"But, while we're on New York family getaways rights of passage – The Crayola Experience …," Olivia shook her head again and held up her hands. "Never again. Avoid it at all costs. No matter what any of the Carisis try to tell you."

Rollins gave her a smile. "So then what exactly are you doing in Springfield?"

"As little as possible," Olivia said.

"Somehow I don't think that will be a problem …," Amanda said.

Olivia smiled. "Only there – doing as little as possible also means I'll have a weekend without laundry, cleaning, groceries or errands."

"Ahhhhh …," Amanda nodded. "So Heaven on Earth for parent. OK. I hear ya on that kind of getaway."

Olivia smiled thinly again and rubbed at her eyebrow. "The Basketball Hall of Fame is there," she said.

"Ahhh …," Amanda nodded again. "I thought I recognized the town from somewhere. Guess heard it in the news. Kobe's posthumously induction."

Olivia nodded. "Brian hates museums but he's been talking about wanting to go for a while."

She shrugged at that. She was relatively indifferent to basketball. She'd played a little in her Fresh Man year in high school. She liked that Benji still had a sport he was able to manage participating in without too much fear of injuries or flares. She enjoyed bouncing and shooting the ball with him and Emmy. She didn't mind watching sports with Brian. Or at least she didn't mind them being on the TV screen. She had a fun outing when they did get out to a Knicks game, even though that didn't rank high on the list of things she'd ever spent money on before Brian and the kids were in her life. But Brian also put up with tagging along to a lot of things he didn't really have any particular interest in for the sake of family time.

She'd never been to any 'hall of fame' for anything. So she wasn't entirely sure what to expect. The website wasn't entirely explicit on what was inside. She assumed basketball history and 'artifacts' from previous inductees. In the very least, she was pretty sure Brian and Benji would take some enjoyment out of it. And, she'd do her best to keep Emmy from ruining the couple hours they were in there for them. Try to distract her and find something interesting to look at. But she was trying to go in with an open mind. She previously would've thought that a Firefighter Museum and a Transit Museum would be beyond duds. And they were both high on her family's annual museum rotation list. Though, they'd fallen a little farther down the list as the kids aged. And that was a little sad.

"It will just be nice to get away for a few days. It's Dr. Seuss' hometown so there's a little museum and some kind of sculptor garden. The hotel we booked has an indoor pool and a waterslide," she shrugged again. "We'll eat a couple meals out."

"A lot of fine dining in Springfield?" Amanda teased.

Olivia rubbed her eyebrow self-consciously again and shrugged. "Benji and Emmy might actually be thrilled if all we can find is Burger King and Dunkin' Donuts. They don't get that much here. And, we've really had so few nights where we've actually gotten out of the city, sleeping in a hotel is still an exhilarating vacation to them."

Amanda allowed a little smile. "I hope they have fun. You and Brian too."

"Thank you," Olivia mouthed silently and smoothed her hands on her desk. "What about you? Plans for tonight?"

"Ah …," Amanda shrugged a little. "Maybe. Al's offered to take both the girls for the night. So, I don't know, maybe try to find somewhere to get dinner or a drink."

"Mmm …," Olivia nodded, tilting her head a bit. "He got reservations for that?"

Amanda smiled a little but examined the floor. But she eventually shook her head and shrugged. "I really don't know. I don't even know if or when he's getting off work. Tonight or any other. You know … new gig, paying dues …"

"Mmm …," Olivia allowed but watched the detective.

Amanda fidgeted a bit and sat up a bit straighter. "Ah, but he isn't the on-call on the docket for the weekend. And he did book this making and decorating a chocolate letter thing for Jesse. At … one of the children's museums? I don't know."

Olivia allowed her a thin smile. "He's good with your girls …"

Amanda just shrugged.

Olivia tapped at her desk a bit. "Amanda, I haven't wanted to bug you about this, but you know we – I – can't talk in circles around who 'he' is forever. There's going to have to be a point where you publicly disclose so you two don't get into a conflict of interest situation. You've seen what that can do to a career and a relationship," she said, giving her a little nod. Though, at that point – David Haden was a story from a long time ago.

Amanda just shook her head and looked at the floor again. "You know, Liv … Captain … I'm just not ready to send out a memo on that yet. I don't even know what … it is right now. It's not much of anything right now with his job. It's where his focus is and it's like … you know, we weren't enough before for either of us to even make it all official that we aren't much now at all."

Olivia tilted her head at her younger detective. "He's still a part of your personal life, Amanda. He's a part of your girls' lives. You have weekend plans with him. Valentine's Day plans …?"

"That's the thing, though," Amanda said and looked at her. "Do I really have plans wit him? Or does he just have plans with Jesse and Billie? You know … it's like … to get all Jerry Maguire on you … he loves my girls and he just really likes me."

Olivia allowed her a little frown at that. "You know, Amanda, I understand," she said. "I do. I've been there. And, I can tell you … that maybe sometimes in these circumstances … he knows to be with you, those girls of yours, need to be a big part of his life. And figuring out a way to let him have that and to still let yourself be – a woman in a relationship with a man … that's a big piece of the puzzle in finding that relationship that's going to fit your family. You both need to figure out how to be both people. That person for your girls and that person for your partner. It's not an easy puzzle to solve."

Amanda made an amused – but annoyed – noise and looked to the floor. "Yea," she snorted.

Olivia sighed a little and sat back in her chair. "Amanda, I'm not saying now – but the two of you, you do need to figure out when and how to send out that memo and go on the record – before something that comes up that bites either of you in the ass. You've had that happen too many times. And, you and Carisi both have too much at stake now to let it happen now. You're just friends or you're not. The grey area isn't going to be allowed to stay that way much longer."


	3. Shoot

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: A series of stand-alone, non-chronological ONE-SHOTS set in Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans, A Step At A Time, The Night Before AU. Olivia Benson navigates the job, parenthood and marriage while trying to find the difficult work-life-family balance that comes with being a cop.**

**PLEASE NOTE: These chapters are stand-alone SCENES or one-shots. This is not a chronological story and there is no purposeful continuity. It is just a collection of moments. Some will reflect random ideas or potentially fun, humorous, heavy scenes to write with these characters. Others will expand on a scene from an episode (past or present) or recast the way a scene went while imaging it in this AU. Others will take a kernel from an episode and use it as inspiration for how these characters might've interacted with it going forward. Wherever possible, a year, season number or episode name will be provided to give some context of the general timeframe of the scene — to provide some guidance on where the characters are at mentally/emotionally and the ages of the children.**

"They're OK," Olivia felt vibrate into the hair on the side of her head so much more than she even really heard it. But she allowed herself to smile a bit at that. At the warmth of Brian in her space and the way his fingers had weaved with hers as they stood in the slow moving ticket line at the Basketball Hall of Fame. Her playing sentry as their kids roamed around the already numerous displays in the lobby and Brian as examined the different ticket and price options up on the billboard.

It was more affectionate than they often let themselves be … in public. In some ways it was more affectionate than they let themselves even be in their daily, private home-life too. Because they were in work-mode or parenting-mode or that awkward transition period of one to the other that on a lot of the cases her and Brian worked – the time between the bullpen and their living room wasn't usually enough to entirely switch from cop to Mommy and Daddy. Let alone turn into the friend, partner and spouse they'd committed to be to one another … until death do them part. Apparently. And that was often still a choice – a mental reminder – she had to give to herself every day. Marriage was a choice. Being with him was a choice. Being a wife was a choice. And it required work – and some days, she knew they were both lax about putting in the work it needed.

But then there were moments like this where Olivia knew opening themselves up to those bits of affection was something she needed to work on. Still. Letting herself accept that affection. Allowing Brian the opportunity to be that kind of friend and partner and husband to her. To encourage it – and not shutdown or push it away. Because when she did let him in – let him try to show her in the ways he knew how and the ways he was comfortable with – how much he loved her, adored her … was attracted to her mentally, emotionally and physically … it felt nice.

It felt nice – and right – in ways that she probably had spent most of her life not knowing they existed or that they could feel quite that way. And that she sometimes still struggled with feeling worthy of being treated that way, being allowed to experience those sensations and not view them as objectifying her or weakening her in the face of an Old Boys' Club. And other times it still surprised her that it was Brian Cassidy who managed to do those things for her. But as awkward as Brian could be. As short tempered and stubborn. For all his little quirks and bigger attitudes and opinions that drove her crazy and frustrated her so much – he had just as many, if not a few more that smoothed it all out and reaffirmed why he'd come to occupy the 'best friend' role in her life and how after she'd accepted that just how easily 'lover' and 'partner' slipped into the equation. Eventually wearing her down enough to earn the title of 'husband'.

So that morning, Olivia just hummed some acknowledgement. All of it was nice – when she let herself enjoy it. A family. A husband. Kids. A son and daughter. Two little people so different and individual. Not theirs genetically but so them – or at least the children they needed and deserved – in so many ways. Expected and entirely unexpected.

And there were just ways they were good at it. When they allowed themselves to settle into being a couple. And maybe these few days away from the city were just as much about a change of scenery for them – to allow themselves the space to be a couple, just as much as it was to take some purposeful and dedicated family-time without their phones always buzzing.

There were other moments where it still surprised her that her and Brian found things to talk about. That didn't revolve around work or the kids. That they could find the common ground that made them a good fit outside of that. And it didn't need to be big things.

It could be Brian already having the SUV packed by the time she got home – and jammed with kids' magic carpets and hockey skates and scooters along with their overnight bags because he didn't know what they'd want to do. Him offering to drive to get them through the increased city traffic as they neared the end of the work day on a Friday, and Valentine's Day and a long weekend for some and the start of winter break for a lot of others. Or the way he casually found her hand after the kids were plugged into their devices and oblivious. It was how he'd acted like he didn't spend any time looking into what there was to see and do in Springfield and its surroundings but then before they'd even checked into the hotel had guided them to restaurant that was in an old fire hall and was serving a family menu for Valentine's Day that they could all enjoy. It was the way he'd played with the kids in the pool and sports deck that was far beyond what her expectations of the hotel had been. And then how he'd sat on the deck in loungers chatting with her and at her while they just watched their kids play and explore. It was the way he kept looking at her while the kids were sprawled out on the couch in their suite watching the latest Spiderman movie. And how he'd thought of toting along the white noise machine they'd invested in for the kids room in an effort to start getting them to sleep through the night or at least not end up in their bed as much. It was the wordless acknowledgement of just how eager they'd both been for the kids to fall asleep and just how happy they were to have gotten a one-bedroom suite. And how apparently they both were more willing to drop some walls and make some exceptions to their usually boundaries and barriers when it came to hotel sex. Which they also were apparently really good at.

And maybe that too was why his warmth in her space still felt so nice. His hand in hers. Him treating her to a Valentine's Day without ever actually saying that was what he was going.

Or maybe it was just more reassurance their family worked. And some days – weeks, weekends – Olivia still needed reassurance of that. Because it sure felt like so much work to get it to work. And then … other days … that day … it didn't. And you needed days and moments just like that. And she was learning to recognize, seize them and enjoy them more.

To take it all in.

Emmy could be so … weird about sports. At least team sports. They weren't her in so many ways. But she was such a Daddy's Girl she was oozing with nearly as much enthusiasm about this Saturday morning activity as her dad and big brother. Or maybe it was that she was an explorer at heart.

Either way, she'd been making it her mission to move from each etched footprint of each star basketball player encircling the lobby. She measured her tiny feet against each and every one – seemingly taking in the name and team and jersey number and shoe size before she trotted to the next and did the same. Standing and staring down at her feet against those monstrous shoeprints like she was collecting important data of some kind. Sports trivia night …?

Benji on the other hand had been drawn to the cabinets displaying jerseys and basketballs and pendants. He'd been standing and just staring near slack-jawed. There wasn't a lot to read yet but Olivia could tell – he was going to be wanting to take it all in. He was going to need help reading some of the panels and displays. That Brian's estimation of how long they'd be at the Hall of Fame was likely way off.

"We're going to need more than two hours," she murmured.

He only made a little sound and shrugged a bit against her. "Not like we've got anything else planned," he said.

She hummed a bit. They did and they didn't. But they weren't on a schedule. That was the whole point. And after seeing what the pool area at their hotel was like she was pretty sure that the kids might just opt to spend the afternoon splashing around in there. And Olivia thought she was likely OK with that too.

Her phone vibrated a bit in her back pocket. Olivia groaned and released his hand to retrieve it. But his hand moved along with hers, slipping into the pocket of her jeans and resting there and she stared at her phone. She saw Brian give it a glance but his eyes drift back to do his own monitoring of the kids.

"Tutuola bitching about how many DVs got passed-off on SVU last night?" he muttered against her head again.

Olivia made a noise but then flashed the phone is way again. "It's Jack," she said. "He sent a couple more pictures from last night."

"He realize we hardly know how this band is?" Brian mumbled.

Olivia allowed him a smile at that. But flipped to the next photo and flashed it at him again. It was Jack and Renee – a selfie with the presumably the band on-stage and the both of them looking very happy, very excited and very much in love.

Brian gave it another glance. "Yea, yea, Jackie Boy. We know you were making a big play to get laid. Don't need to send us the pre-emptive evidence."

Olivia gave him a light tap in the chest for that one. He had a point. But didn't need to vocalize it quite that way. She rubbed at her elbow. "The two of them actually feeling secure enough to go to a concert – in a stadium venue – is probably the bigger deal here. It doesn't feel like that long ago that I wouldn't have expected either of them to be able to handle that."

Brian made a sound of acknowledgement. "They end up crashing at the house last night?"

She nodded and started keying something quickly back to Jack.

"Hope you're telling them to wash the sheets and stash the trash before they take off," he said.

She made another listening noise. "They're going to Jackson Heights to look at this building," she said and handed him the phone.

Brian scrolled a bit but then shrugged. "Looks nice on the website …"

She made another noise and took the phone back from him.

"At least it's not Poughkeepsie …" he offered.

She rolled her eyes at that. Jack and Renee had gone up there the previous weekend and he had been sending her listings of four bedroom houses that were cheaper than the studio he was in right now. But she also didn't think he needed a four-bedroom house. That was ridiculous. Some of the one and two bedroom condos they did look at, though, nearly had as much square-footage as the home her and Brian were currently tackling a mortgage on. It placed some things in jarring perspective. For both her and for Jack and Renee, she thought. Moving up there would be a change of lifestyle – but it didn't seem like they were necessarily opposed to that. Though, maybe they were if this weekend they were actually putting time into looking at what was available in Queens. Their rent money would go farther there than in Manhattan too.

"But why Jackson Heights?" she muttered. Brian shrugged. She gave him a look. "That's all you've got?"

"I thought we were staying out of this," he looked at her.

She sighed – more at her phone and Jack than him. But it was Brian who gave a bit more anyway.

"I think he'd be smarter looking in Flushing too if they're staying in the city. Look for something near Astoria maybe. But their life …"

"It feels like they're moving a little fast," Olivia muttered.

"Their life, babe," he said again. But then he called out, "Big Man …"

Olivia looked up from her phone to see where Brian was looking. Benji had wandered over to the wide-open doors leading into a large gym. But there was an adult man standing next to him and pointing off at something inside. Her son's body language was uncomfortable, and he almost seemed relieved at his dad's call and gesture for him to come over.

"It's an employee," Olivia said as she watched Benji make his way across the lobby. He was favoring his one leg just slightly that morning. But he had been a lot that winter.

"He doesn't need to be getting into the space of kids like that," Brian said.

Olivia found his hand again and gave it a squeeze for that comment – working to calm and stabilize him.

Benji got over to them and gazed at them. Any apprehension that might've been there while the stranger was talking to them had faded.

"You need a ticket to go into the gym," Benji informed them as he got there. "It's got all kinds of drills set up and they have shoot out contests."

Brian just made a sound of acknowledgement. "You don't need to be talking to adults you don't know," he said.

Benji gave him a look. "He talked to me. He said I wasn't allowed to go in without a ticket. But I was only looking."

Brian made another sound at that.

"Are we gettin' tickets for the gym too?" Benji asked.

It got another sound out of Brian who shifted that time back to staring at the pricing board.

"We're still deciding which tickets we're going to get," Olivia provided.

Benji sighed a bit and looked at the last family in front of them as they waited. "Last year on Winter Break Dad took me to the museum in Chicago and I thought of my tornado project idea. You think I'll think of another science fair experiment here?"

Olivia gave him a smile. "Maybe," she allowed. "But it's not a science museum, Benj."

"But maybe they have sports science stuff," Benji said. "And some sports stuff is kinda physics stuff. Just like my weather experiment."

She smiled and gently tapped the back of his head. "Go get your sister," she said. "It's almost our turn."

"It is your turn," Benji said and pointed at Brian. Olivia glanced and then shooed him away and went up to the counter too.

"Badge?" he put to her. She raised her eyebrow but he pointed up at a screen that was rotating through. "Freebie." He already had his out on the counter. "We're both cops," he told the clerk like that was going to make a difference to museum policy.

"I need to see her badge too," the kid at the counter mumbled.

Olivia dug through her purse – which had reached the point of being so oversized she pretty much felt like she was carrying a diaper bag with her again. Two kids, one with medication, and winter accessories seemed to necessitate that. But it was also likely going to soon necessitate a massage for her shoulder and likely a chiropractor for her neck. But she found it and put it on the counter. The kid barely looked at it.

"OK," the teen mumbled some more. "So you're both free. Is anyone else going in?"

"Two kids," Brian said.

"Anyone under three?" the teen sighed out at him.

"Eleven, six," he said.

"OK," the kid clicked around on their screen. "They get reduced rate since you're First Responder tickets. So they're ten bucks each. So twenty."

"Yea, wait," Brian said and pointed back at the gym. "That included?"

"Yeah …" the kid said without even looking.

"OK, then what's this NBA Experience thing?" he pointed up to the ticketing screen.

That got another epic sigh out of the kid but she pulled a laminated piece of paper and put it up on the counter – pointing at nothing in particular on it.

"It's our newest exhibit," she mumbled even more. "It's thirteen interactive experiences to test your basketball skills and abilities. It's a timed ticket."

Brian gave Olivia a look. She could tell he was interested. It was written all over him.

"Will our six-year-old be able to handle it?" Olivia asked.

The teen shrugged. "Yeah, sure." That wasn't entirely helpful.

"How much is it?" Brian asked pointing up to the board again. "That the combo price?"

"No," the kid said. "Thirty-four dollars is the price."

Brian looked at her. "You know that's more than the museum ticket."

Another shrug. "Yeah." And she stared at them. "Lots of people just come and do that now. It's new. It's basically just opened."

"There a Service Discount for it too?" Brian asked.

"No," the kid said and stressed more rudely. "It's new."

Brian just shook his head. "OK, yea, no—"

Olivia pressed in a bit, though, retrieving her wallet again. "I've got it," she said.

Brian looked at her. "Liv, c'mon, that's ridiculous."

She shrugged. "It's not that different from the pricing at home for speciality exhibits or add-on activities." He sighed at her but she tilted her head at him. "You want to do it. Benji will enjoy it. Consider it part of your Valentine's Day gift."

"Fake holiday," he said.

"Well, this isn't a fake family vacation," she said and looked at the kid who seemed suitably annoyed with them. "What timeslots are available?"

The kid glanced at the computer and clicked a bit. "Honestly, should likely basically go up now while like no one is here yet."

Olivia nodded some recognition. "OK. The first available timeslot."

"Fifteen minutes?" the kid looked at her and she nodded again. "So four tickets for that?"

"I can just take Ben," Brian said.

Olivia gave him a look. "You scared I'm going to beat you in a shoot-out Cassidy?"

**AUTHOR NOTE**

**This chapter was supposed to be fun to write. It wasn't. And it wasn't working.**

**Not sure any of my other ideas will write better or work or be fun either. So maybe this will just be a slush pit of crap that gets written and posted just because time got spent writing it.**

**The fun factor is definitely diminishing quickly. So disappearing act will likely occur again for several weeks or months soon.**


	4. White Noise

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: A series of stand-alone, non-chronological ONE-SHOTS set in Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans, A Step At A Time, The Night Before AU. Olivia Benson navigates the job, parenthood and marriage while trying to find the difficult work-life-family balance that comes with being a cop.**

**PLEASE NOTE: These chapters are stand-alone SCENES or one-shots. This is not a chronological story and there is no purposeful continuity. It is just a collection of moments. Some will reflect random ideas or potentially fun, humorous, heavy scenes to write with these characters. Others will expand on a scene from an episode (past or present) or recast the way a scene went while imaging it in this AU. Others will take a kernel from an episode and use it as inspiration for how these characters might've interacted with it going forward. Wherever possible, a year, season number or episode name will be provided to give some context of the general timeframe of the scene — to provide some guidance on where the characters are at mentally/emotionally and the ages of the children.**

TIMEFRAME: January 2020

Olivia glanced up from her take-home work as a box landed on the opposite side of dining room table. She looked at it – a brand new white noise machine – and then looked up at Cassidy who was staring at her like he was just waiting for her reaction.

"Is this some sort of passive aggressive way of telling me I snore?" she put to him flatly.

It got a head tilt. That annoyed look of his. And she looked away from it back to her files and mountains of paperwork she was trying to get in order before the COMP-STAT meeting the next morning, where she was sure she'd have the powers-that-be critiquing SVU's performance and declining stat numbers while not acknowledging at all the declining resources they were giving her to run her unit in any kind of effective manner. Or at least in a way that looked good in their fucking spreadsheets and pie graphs.

"It's for the kids' room," he rasped at her.

She made a listening noise – that she made sure expressed her own annoyance. "We have one," she said and gave him a look. "It's likely in Emmy's baby box."

His eyes glared again. "This one can go in their room rather than a fucking box," he said, "that who fucking knows where it is."

Olivia just pointed downward with her pen. "Maintenance closet. Downstairs," she said flatly.

She could feel his eyes stay on her for a long beat. But then he shifted, going to the narrow desks and their hutched bookshelves that made up the craft and homework space (and storage area) for the kids against the side wall. He opened one of the drawers and started riffling it around. Olivia could tell he was likely going to leave a bigger mess in their than the kids ever did. That drawer got pushed – near slammed – shut and the next one opened.

"Where are the batteries?" he asked – no demanded.

Olivia rubbed at her eyebrow but didn't look at him. "I have no idea."

"We just fucking bought batteries at Christmas," he grumbled. "How the fuck do they go through that many batteries in a month?"

"I suspect that has to do with the remote control cars that are still taking paint chips out of my baseboards," Olivia said flatly.

She felt his eyes more to her at that. The glare set. "Those came with rechargeable battery packs," he provided with an edge.

"Ahh …" She just kept scrolling down on her screen, looking for the next box she needed to pull information from for the expected interrogation she'd be enduring in front of all the other commanding officers come morning.

"Nevermind," Brian muttered and came back to the table, picking up the box and fumbling around overly awkwardly and overly loudly to get it open. "I'll just plug it in."

And then Olivia shifted her glare to him. "You're going to go in there – now – and wake them up fumbling around to plug in a device that's only going to make more noise?" she pressed at him and then gestured at pile of work. "I have work I need to get done tonight, Brian. You wake them – you're dealing with it."

And his glare and head-tilt set on her again. "The whole fucking point of this is so that maybe they'll fucking sleep through the night," he pressed at her. "So maybe we can get some fucking shut-eye without either of them up or in our bed. So maybe we can actually have sex that isn't—"

But her eyes snapped to his at that and she almost laughed at him. "Don't even," she pressed at him abruptly and then pointed a bit at him and that look he was giving her. "Don't pretend that this has anything to do with you not getting laid for a week, Brian."

"It hasn't been a week," he said. "More like a month."

She just rolled her eyes at him with a head shake and went back to her work. She wasn't even going to engage with that. Teen-aged boy sulking – not grown man conversation or any real attempt to work toward resolving and rectifying their latest argument.

She could feel him still glaring at her. But Brian Cassidy didn't scare her. She'd dealt with far worse and far more intimidating men in much direr situations. And he knew it too. The glare eventually turned to a start and he finally let out a sound of frustrated exasperation and pulled out the chair and sat down across from her.

She gave him a glance but just reached for her glass of wine and took a sip – a long one that almost wanted to be a gulp – and kept flipping through her files.

"I don't want to fight with you," he said.

"Well, you could of fooled me," she muttered still looking at her paperwork. "It sure feels like you stormed in here looking for one. And I really don't have the time or energy for that tonight."

He audibly sighed at her. But then he just sat there. And Olivia just kept on picking away at getting her prep done.

"When's the last time you think you actually got to sleep through the night?" he finally asked.

Olivia just let out an exhale and shrugged. "I have no idea," she muttered without giving it any real thought. She'd hazard a guess that it was about seven years ago – or maybe more like 22-plus.

"Babe," Brian tried. "I function better on less sleep than you." She allowed an amused noise at that. She wouldn't entirely accept that as fact either. It was more Brian had worked undercover for longer than she'd ever had to and had had to be in all-night situations that involved drugs, alcohol and working girls while he was 'working' too. And she could tell he'd read all that into her noise and it hung there for a moment while he looked at her. "And, Liv, I'm at the point I really just fucking want a night's sleep. In my own fucking bed. With my wife."

She pressed at her keyboard. "I think we both know you and orgasm doesn't equate sleep," she said and gestured absently upstairs and in the general direction of the bathroom. "But since you're so hard done by, do what you need to do. Certainly wouldn't be the first time."

"And like you never self-serve," he pressed right back before she'd even fully gotten the words out of her mouth. "Actually, you know, I think I do know where I can find some batteries."

And she looked up and locked eyes with him. And he just stared right back. And they both held that way until he was the one who blinked and looked a way, shaking his head in an attempt to mask it. But Olivia could see his one fist clutching in frustration on the table and his other hand squeezing at his elbow.

"See," he muttered and then looked right at her. "This is why I don't want to fight with you. Because you always have to fucking win, Liv. You just always have to be right. And I've fucking let you win … all the fucking time … because I spent years of my life being so fucking afraid if I didn't I'd lose you and the kids."

Olivia exhaled a bit and rubbed at her eyebrow – staring at the table more than the computer screen. "Bri," she said evenly. "I don't want to do this tonight. I'm tired. You're tired."

"We're tired," he agreed firmly – looking her right in the eye and gestured at the white noise machine. "And I present a fucking possible solution and you're acting like it's about the worst idea ever."

Olivia gestured right at the machine. "That's not what this is about," she said and then gestured between them. "And neither is this."

They just looked at each other. In those long moments, Olivia couldn't tell if they were about to talk or if he was about to stand up and leave. But then Brian shook his head until it hung and he stared at the table with his mouth hanging open like he was trying to get words out but couldn't quite find them.

He finally sighed and looked at her. "Three suicides, Liv," he said. "In less than a year."

"And you think that I'm not acutely aware that that's something you're dealing with?" she put to him more gently. "That it makes me worry about you – and your mental health. But – you don't talk to me, Brian."

He shook his head again and looked at the table with that gapping gesture again. "What the hell am I supposed to say, Liv?" he sputtered a bit. "That with Chelton and Lopez … I feel like I should've seen the signs. Lopez couldn't wait to get out of there. I should've helped him transfer sooner. I should've seen that the fucking work – the cases, the kids – were getting to him. Chelton … that guy. All the fucking red flags were there."

"Hindsight can be twenty-twenty, Brian," she offered. "We … all miss things. We're doing our jobs. Answering to our powers that be. Doing our own juggling acts. I miss things."

He gazed at her. "And what about Gordie's wife? I should've fucking seen that that family was drowning. I should've thrown Gordie some kind of fucking life preserver, gotten his family some kind of help."

"Brian, that's not all on you. None of it is. Any of them. And, it was Gordon's family. His wife. He knows what access points we have. The hospital must've been giving them to them too. This was … you can't know what's going on behind closed doors of your staff."

"I fucking should," he pressed. "A fucking lifetime as a cop – as a fucking detective, Olivia – and, what? I just let this happen. Three fucking lives. Three families. Kids. Just fucked. And what the fuck am I supposed to do with Gordie? He's not going to stay. He can't stay on. Not with little kids at home and figuring out how to be a single dad and getting them through this. With the kind of fucking cases we deal with? The shit we look at? But me – as a boss – my whole fucking team. Black listed. No one wants in. They're going to have to fucking dismantle the unit and reorganize it, rebrand it or some shit. Axe me? I don't fucking know. But I know I can't go into work and be dealing with … all that … and then come home and be the fucking Bad Guy, the fucking asshole to our kids."

"And I can?" Olivia put to him firmly.

He sighed and examined the table. Olivia stared at him and at nothing too.

"Maybe it's better if the Investigator's Office does a reorganization," she provided. "I worry about you – the cases – too."

He looked at her. "But you tackling SVU cases – the vics – for two decades … that's just fine?"

She exhaled. "It is and it isn't. I've had to learn how to … not get as close to the case, to bond with the victim …"

"You've done real good at that," Brian lay-out with the sarcasm seeping from him.

Olivia gazed at him. "I like to think since being in command – understanding more that being close to the victim doesn't mean the same as helping the victim or the case."

Brian shrugged. "Fine. But not comparable. My job is to recreate how the crime occurred, if the crime occurred. To objectively look at the evidence in the investigation that came to that conclusion. It's understanding if there's enough to go trail and get a conviction without some dirty little secret or perjury blowing up and derailing everything. The cases – the victims: Inconsequential to me."

Olivia frowned at him. "I really hope you aren't working at lying to yourself as much as you just looked me in the eye and told that giant, glaring fib, Brian."

She only got another shrug. And she shook her head at him. "Fine, I think you need help. That you need to be talking to someone about this. But tell yourself what you need to to get by right now. If that's what you really need to believe to deal with the mental health crisis going on on this task force of yours, Brian, then …" she shook her head and stared at him but then she looked away because she thought she would get emotional and he'd see it. Instantly. He likely already had. But there were times she just wished he would understand – accept – how much she worried about him and his coping … with all of this. His life and LIFE.

Brian clearly needed someone to talk to too and she didn't think the Investigator's Office was providing that in a real way. It made her want to get on the phone with their union and ask what the hell was going on – because she worried enough about Brian coping with the skeletons in his closet. He didn't need to be taking on responsibility for other people's … choices made in desperation when they couldn't get the help they needed or live the lives with their family they'd hoped.

Olivia felt like those realities were coming to a head in their family too and this talk was making her feel like Brian was ill-equipped to handle that. And like she was entirely ill-equipped to help him. Because he wouldn't let her in there yet.

"I do know, I honestly feel, I've done better since becoming a mother – since knowing my head needs to be at home when I'm home. And, Bri, when I come home, more days than not, I just want to hug the kids too. And I am … sick of … always having to be the disciplinarian lately."

"He almost died," Brian pressed at her bluntly.

It stung more. She felt it in her chest and behind her eyes. And she rubbed at her eyebrow again to try to keep herself in check.

"He didn't," she countered. He hadn't.

"Focal seizures, nervous system talk, brain inflammation talk, fucking blood plasma transfers," he pressed again with the edge to his voice.

"Yes, and now there is little sign of disease activity," she said. "Benji's technically in remission, Brian."

"Yea, until it isn't. And only as long as we're shoving fucking immuno-modulators down his throat every day for the rest of his life."

"And how different is that from parents who have children on an asthma inhaler or juvenile diabetes and insulin pumps or fucking ADD shoving Ritalin down their throats, Brian? Lots of kids are on some kind of medication."

"Not like this," he said. "It's not normal."

"It is our _new_ normal, Brian," she pressed at him hard. "And just like any normal kid, Benji can be a moody, clingy, stubborn, defiant eleven-year-old boy, who quite frankly has days where he is a bit of an asshole." It earned the smallest smile of recognition out of Brian. "And I don't like being the one who always has to draw that to his attention and set him straight."

"A lot of that is the drugs," Brian said. "Or the fucking disease. I'm not going to punish him because he has lupus."

"You are not punishing him because he has lupus, Brian," she raised her voice. "Just like he isn't allowed to treat us like shit because he's not feeling well on any particular day. He needs to learn how to recognize and manages symptoms of the disease and side effects of the medication."

"And, yet," Brian pushed at her, "last night I try to do the parenting and you jump down my fucking throat – in front of the kids."

Olivia almost growled out some of her frustration and near slapped her laptop shut so it wasn't blocking any of her physical body language from him now. Or her ability to lunge across the table and grab him by the throat.

"I have already acknowledged that I shouldn't have said that in front of the kids – but you had just countered my parenting too, Brian. I'd already set the guidelines and made the negotiation with him to get through the night – and then when I tell him to get off his ass and do it, you swoop in and take over."

He glared at her. "He had a game tonight. His knees were already bruised and buggin' him. You shouldn't have had him crawling around the floor."

"He had Lego from here," she jabbed a finger at the glass door to their small garden behind her, "all the way to the front door!"

"It was a marble run," Brian said. "He's testing out ideas for his science project."

Olivia glared. "Yes, Bri. I know exactly what he was doing – because I'm the one who's been pulling teeth out of him to get him to do any of his homework lately. But it was seven o'clock at night. It was time to clean-up. It's not like I had him on the floor with a bucket and sponge."

"And fucking telling me off about taking out the trash?" he pressed.

"It's his chore," she spat exasperatedly. "When's the last time you did one of Emmy's chores? At dinner you'd made a point of making sure she knew it was turn to clear the table and you sure weren't up on your feet to even help her. But an hour later you're happy to schlep around the house emptying our trash cans for Benji?"

"To get them upstairs and into bedtime routine faster," Brian said.

"And, you know – you knew, you sat there at dinner and listened to the fucking negotiation with him – he was willing to give up story-time but wanted screen-time with that show. I was willing to accommodate that to get through the rest of the evening without a fight about homework and screen-time."

"OK, one – I didn't hear that conversation," Brian said.

"You were sitting right there," Olivia gestured madly at him.

"I don't remember anyone talking about that," he shrugged.

Olivia shook her head and gazed over at the wall seething. "Then so glad you could join us for the last ten minutes of our family meal, Bri," she muttered. "At least we got you here in body, even if your head was still off …" and she gestured dismissively before turning back to him.

His eyes stuck on her. They glared again for a long moment.

"Two," he said. "It was a fucking Stephen King mini-series. How the fuck is that appropriate for an eleven-year-old that we're trying to get over his fucking nightmares that result in him sleeping in our bedroom like four night a week?"

Olivia looked at him and started her own numbered list. "One," she raised an eyebrow at him. "It's not Stephen King. It's based on a graphic novel by his son. Two," and she raised that eyebrow a bit further and did a head tilt to drive the point home. "I'm willing to entertain at least the notion of most things that ignite any kind of interest in working on his reading and his drawing, Brian. Three. It was Jack and Renee who mentioned this series to him and showed him the comic. It is the first thing in months – MONTHS – that he's taken any interest in that his uncle has mentioned. So I am not going to arbitrarily shutdown a possible stepping stone in re-establishing some kind of dynamic between the two of them. Or between Benji and a woman who seems like she's going to end up being a pretty important part of Jack's life. And, four, Brian, I was going to watch it with him. And, you know I would've turned it off if it was remotely inappropriate. And, if it was just some YA creepy fantasy show, Bri, it would've been really nice to have a new carrot for dealing with Benji and for me to have some show and some time with my son that doesn't revolve around prodding him about homework, chores and taking his medication."

"We should've talked about it before you went promising him he could watch it," Brian said.

Olivia tilted her head. "Really? We need to have a discussion about every little media consumption our kids are delving into now? OK, Brian. I'll keep that in mind the next time some new super hero movie or Transformers show or Ninja Turtles video game releases."

Brian just made a sound that didn't sound like it was anywhere near being in agreement with her.

Olivia let out her own sound of frustration – if not boiling over into anger again.

"See," she pressed, tapping her clenched fist lightly on the tabletop and it was a hammer she could use to get through her husband's thick skull. "This is part of the reason it makes me so mad, Bri, that you won't come to the chronic illness parenting workshop at the hospital."

That turned into frustrated annoyance emitting from somewhere in Brian's throat too. Olivia just locked eyes with him.

"Benji is not some broken, infantile, fragile, sick person, Brian," she put to him firmly. "You need someone besides me saying that to you. Because I sure as hell don't seem to be presenting you with a convincing argument. You need to hear someone else tell you that Benji is still Benji. He is not 'lupus'. We are not a 'lupus family'."

"Really?" Brian looked at her. "Because it sure has felt like we've spent a year being a lupus family."

"We've spent a year dealing with a diagnosis, Brian," she raised her voice. "And that's all it is. It's just a fucking diagnosis. It can't be our family's or his or our defining characteristic. And if you'd just come to these sessions, you'd hear that part of parenting a sick child is stopping and asking yourself how you'd treat them, how you'd parent them, if they weren't sick. If he didn't have this label. What your expectations would be? What would their discipline and repercussions would be? What you'd let them do and not do?"

"And apparently what we'd let them do is watch a show meant for teenagers when he's still pissing his bed, afraid of the dark and cowers in cramped spaces."

"The only thing on that list that might have to do with lupus is the bed-wetting – and that's a whole lot more to do with the medication then the disease," Olivia glared at him. "And you know that. Just like you know that he's surrounded by kids who are watching Stranger Things and Walking Dead and Game of Thrones and Riverdale and … surfing the internet to find free porn, Brian. I'm sure you've gone and looked up this show by now – same as me – and Locke and Key is a pretty tame comparison to any of that."

They sat there. Just staring. Not talking, until Olivia finally exhaled.

"I wish you'd come and hear their suggestions on finding and measuring our 'new normal' – and boundaries and routines. You just keep living in this 'we're not normal' now."

"We aren't," he shrugged.

"We never were, Brian. Our family make-up, the backgrounds the kids came from, things we've dealt with as a family. It's not 'normal'. But, right now, that's not the problem. The problem is that we are no where near on the same page when it comes to parenting our children."

"So we have a disagreement about chores and screen-time one night and now we aren't on the same page," Brian muttered at her.

"You know it's not just last night, Bri," she exhaled. "It's been a while. We've had lots of bumps since his diagnosis. And, last month … it shook you, Brian. I can tell. It shook me too. But you are treating him … like …"

She just shook her head and stared at the wall for a long beat before finding his eyes again.

"You wanting to always be the super hero and swooping in and saving him from everything – whether he needs it or not - that's hurting us. It's hurting Benji and it's hurting Emmy too, Bri. Benji can't get away with everything with the fucking 'lupus' excuse and then we crack down on our six-year-old? Our first grader? How is that even equating as anything but nonsensical to you?"

"Someone has to watch the kids," he said. "Can't both be going to these workshop things."

Olivia just stared at him. She had to consciously keep herself from wide-eyed, wide-mouthed gaping at him.

"That's what you got out of that?" she said in disbelief. Talk about nonsensical. "Do I even need to respond to that?" She started holding up her fingers. "Your mom, Cragen, Jack, Eileen, Renee. Munch is fucking living downstairs, Brian."

"Living being the operative word there …" he muttered.

And she looked him directly in the eyes and leaned forward a bit. "And that is something we should be talking about too, Brian. But we aren't."

He shrugged. "What's there to talk about?"

"Really?" she stared at him. "OK, Brian. You know what? I know my loss is going to be different than yours. But, when …" she shook her head and looked at the wall again for a long moment. "I'm grieving too. Already. And I'm bracing myself. I'm trying to find acceptance. And I can't – this family can't – have you losing yourself when the enviable happens. I know it's going to hurt – but you can't disappear into one of your rabbit holes. So maybe this is something we really should be starting to work through together – now."

He shrugged. "People die. Cancer kills them."

Brian said it so flatly and near icily that Olivia felt her eyes glass with it and she stared at the table.

"I don't know what it is with us and January and February, Bri," she whispered and gave her head a little shake while she still tried to compose herself.

"I don't hold exclusive ownership on the shit-factor of those two months," he muttered.

She looked up to gaze at him. "I wasn't implying you did."

Another small shrug, his arms crossing a bit. "So maybe it's you who wants to do the talking. Woo is the mother and wife stuck is a sick child, a molested husband and a miscarriage all in the dark days of winter."

"Poetic," she put flatly – staring at him. "Is that what you want to talk about?"

"All I want to talk about is how to not fight," he said.

"Ahh …," Olivia said with annoyed frustration and she nodded at him. "You're structuring the conversation to do really well at accomplishing that."

He shrugged. "You're always telling me I never know when to shut my mouth. But sure seem to be saying I don't talk enough now."

Olivia shook her head and rubbed at her eyebrow. "Brian, I think if you're clumping your past abuse beside your parenting and our miscarriage next to Benji's illness – your mind is going places it shouldn't and you aren't running your mouth enough. To me. To a support group. To your therapist."

"That's not what I'm doing," he said.

She stared at him. "It sure sounded like it was."

He sat there. He said nothing.

"Do you want to talk about any of that? The abuse? ... The miscarriage?"

"Do you?" he boomed.

Olivia exhaled and kept eyes on him. Silence but he looked at her too. She knew it was one of his favorite tactics in the box. Brian was good about sitting there in silence until the perp was uncomfortable enough they started talking. But Olivia also knew that it was an act. He was more uncomfortable right now than her.

"Brian, I don't know what you're getting at here," she sighed. "But unpacking the abuse and what it means for you as a father – is more than I can mentally, emotionally or physically manage tonight. And I know if we go there – I'm not going to say the right thing here. That maybe I never will – no matter how many times I tell you that you're a wonderful father to those two kids."

"Not making it sound like it tonight," he said.

She stressed at him: "Tonight we are talking about our parenting as a unit. I am not assessing you as a father."

"That sounds a lot like what the lawyers call a distinction without a difference."

She sighed and shrugged. "Maybe it is. To them. But, for me, right now, in the context of what … this disagreement is about … there is a difference."

Brian just gave his head a little shake and looked at her. She actually thought he was looking passed her and into their little back lot. But with the lights on in the dining room, she knew that all he'd really be seeing against the dark glass was his own reflection. And it was a sad one.

"Brian, you are a good father. And because you're a good father, I am having a whole lot of trouble understanding why you can't free yourself up for two hours a night once a week this winter to go and fucking learn with me how the fuck we get him through this? To teach him to be an adult man managing this disease and life, Brian! And the answer I've got is that … you aren't coming because … it's about you as a man. Or as a cop and whatever … show you still feel like you have to put on for some life-long beat cops sitting up on barstools waiting for their pension. Or it's about us as a couple. And our parenting."

His head shook again but nothing came out of his mouth.

"We've got three years, Brian," she said. "Three – until he's in high school and not wanting much to do with us but needing to take more responsibility for his health and his medication administration. To stay compliant. To talk to us about symptoms or signs of a flare. To get in front of it – to learn to do that for himself. Four after that until he's done school. Eighteen. Working, college, moving out? I don't know. But I do know that seven years – it goes by fast."

"I know …" Brian muttered.

"So then do not tell me that 12 weeks – twenty-four hours – in a workshop is not going to go by like that too," she pressed harder. "You sure as hell make at least two hours a night available to have whatever sports team on in there," she gestured over at their TV.

"I see enough shrinks," he said flatly.

"Oh," she nodded. "Is that the problem? Because, I haven't seen any statement of benefit envelopes come in from your insurance lately. I'd say since before Christmas. Maybe before Thanksgiving."

"Now you're going through my mail," he said. The glare had returned.

She glared right back. "If you mean, that coincidentally since about mid-November, more days than not I'm the one doing after-school pick-up, homework and dinner – and, yes, picking up the mail and sorting out the junk from the actual envelopes that need to get open – then, yes."

He just stared at her without comment. And she kept firm on his line of sight.

"You are not talking to me," she said firmly. "You have a lot going on at home and at work – on top of everything else you were already trying to sort through – you need to be talking to someone. You might be surprised to find that the lack of sleep you're complaining about - AND what's going on with you below the belt - has a lot less to do with kids ending up in our bed than it does you not getting the help you need."

"And when's the last time you went in to Lindstrom?" he threw back at her.

Olivia rubbed at her eyebrow. "You're right," she acknowledged. "I'm not likely scheduling sessions as regularly as I should. And I would likely benefit from making and keeping those appointments too. And, I acknowledge that it's hard with our work schedules and the kids schedules to … make the time for those kinds of appointments. But we both should be, Brian. And, right now, at least I'm still seeking out support and help elsewhere."

"I'm fine," he said.

"Right," Olivia nodded with some more exasperation. "You're always fine. You're always dealing with it your way," she gestured at the noise machine and then stared at the table for a long beat and then looked at him. "I am not fine. I am not fine going to those sessions alone when the majority of other participants there – it's the mom and the dad. When the women who are there alone – it's because they've quit their job, given up their career – to be the family member who's managing their child's illness and taking them to their appointments. I'm not fine that most of the other lupus parents there, Brian – it's teen-aged girls, not little boys. I'm not fine that their kids it's attacking their kidneys and our son it is attacking his lungs. I'm not fine talking about my private, personal, family life in there with a bunch of people I don't know. And I'm really not fine trying to learn and apply some of what they're teaching in there without the support of my partner. And I understand we have different approaches to dealing with … life and the job and trauma. That we've always had different approaches to parenting. And I've always felt that brought different skills to the table in raising these two kids. But I am telling you, Brian, if we aren't able to find some kind of common ground about how to get these kids to adulthood while dealing with a chronic illness – if we can't at least get into the same chapter if we aren't going to be on the same paper – then … we aren't just going to have problems as a family. Or as parents. This is going to have repercussions for us – as a couple. For our marriage."

He made a little sound and stared at the table. "And there it is. Submit or lose you and the kids," he mumbled.

"That wouldn't be the way I'd look at it," Olivia said.

"Yea," Brian muttered and pushed out his chair, reaching to collect the noise machine. "It wouldn't be. Because you always win."

And he wandered over to the couch, turning on the television and flipping until he got it on a nightly sports recap. He stared at the TV as he blindly found the PlayStation controllers and worked on removing the batteries from them to put in his white noise machine. Olivia stared over at him. But he refused to meet her sightline that she knew he must've felt burning into him. At the very least it was burning her eyes with the sting of hurt, angry, frustrated tears.

Olivia was pretty sure she hadn't won. She'd just lost. They both had. And Benji and Emmy just had too.


	5. Reasons to Celebrate

**Title: Beauty in the Mundane Moments**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: A series of stand-alone, non-chronological ONE-SHOTS set in Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans, A Step At A Time, The Night Before AU. Olivia Benson navigates the job, parenthood and marriage while trying to find the difficult work-life-family balance that comes with being a cop.**

**PLEASE NOTE: These chapters are stand-alone SCENES or one-shots. This is not a chronological story and there is no purposeful continuity. It is just a collection of moments. Some will reflect random ideas or potentially fun, humorous, heavy scenes to write with these characters. Others will expand on a scene from an episode (past or present) or recast the way a scene went while imaging it in this AU. Others will take a kernel from an episode and use it as inspiration for how these characters might've interacted with it going forward. Wherever possible, a year, season number or episode name will be provided to give some context of the general timeframe of the scene — to provide some guidance on where the characters are at mentally/emotionally and the ages of the children.**

TIMEFRAME: Early March 2020

"Her boots are here," Big Man exclaimed basically as soon as the kid pushed the front door open. Had barely even stepped into the house. Em pushing by to get in the door too – ahead of anyone. Always fucking first through the door, that kid.

"MOOOOOOM!" Ben called out as soon as he'd done his low-key detective work there – and made a move like he was about ready to bolt off out of the foyer and through their main living space in search of his Ma.

"Hey," Brian rasped at the kid real quick, as he got in the door in the back of the fucking stampede. He was always taking up the rear with these kids. "Your boots stay here too. Take 'em off."

That got a real huff from their fucking Hufflepuff anymore. Fucking huffed and puffed like he was going to blow the whole world down. Everything seemed to earn a huff from the kid. Supposed it was better than a full-on groan and eyeroll, which probably were the next step in this tween-to-teen thing Big Man seemed to be slowly trying to figure out. But at least the boots got kicked off. Not untied. Just wriggled and kicked and stepping on the heels to pull his feet out – and pull his socks half off his feet in the process.

Not that Ben seemed to care. He just danced and stepped around him and his lil' sis. Coat still on but unzipped and hanging half down his arms like maybe he'd thought about taking it off and was in too much of a hurry. More like it had just conveniently slide partway off as Ben tried to shimmy his backpack off for easier access when he did get himself planted in front of Liv.

"MoooooOOOOM!" he yelled out again as he took off.

And Ducky took of too. Right at his heels. Tossing her coat to the ground to make sure she kept up with Bubba. Always right there with Big Man with a quack, quack, quack. "MoooooOOOOOM!" she copied too.

But Brian grabbed at the hood of her hoodie, gently giving it a tug before she went tracking half of Brooklyn across their floors. Not that it entirely mattered. By the end of any given week the place was bordering on a disaster zone measured near solely based on just how fucking busy their work lives had been. Still, didn't need extra dirt dragged in by the kids. And Em still made sure to act like she'd just been yoked by a cane and pulled off stage-right.

"Hang up your coat. Take off your boots," he nodded at her bluntly.

That got another copycat huff but she listened. Actually giving Brian a sec to shed off his layers too. Gathered up his work duffle and Em's backpack that he could tell she wasn't going to remember to bring any further inside the place than the foyer that evening. On a mission. So was Ben.

"MOOOOOOOOM!" was hollered again inside. Could tell he was calling up the stairs at that point. But Brian could already tell that wasn't where Liv was. That she'd been home long enough to likely get changed and settled. Could hear she had some of her folksy-bluesy-acoustic 'rock' on that was heavy on the trumpet and banjos. Could also smell that she definitely had dinner started.

"Benji, I'm right here," Liv called way more quietly and evenly than Ben was yelling. "You don't need to be yelling across creation."

"Mom! Did you look at my portal yet?" Brian could hear Ben demand. Clearly having joined his Ma in the kitchen at that point.

"Well, hello," Liv responded – with the gentle but still pointed sarcasm that she was starting to lay on the kid more and more now that he was getting old enough to pick up on it. Sometimes it was kind of funny to watch Ben churn in that head what his mom was getting at or if she was just being witty and pulling his leg on something. "Nice to see you too."

Could almost hear Ben sigh from there. Briefly. Because Em was done with her boots and off like a shot to get in on this action. Brian had already gotten the breaking news and talking points on the way of getting the kids home.

"Hi," Ben huffed. "Have you checked my portal?!"

Brian smiled a bit. He pretty much knew the exact look that Big Man was getting. Somewhere between unimpressed by manners and amused by the antics. It was a fairly standard Liv look with the kids – when they weren't pushing her toward her patience point or breaking her heart. But they were usually somewhere in between those two extremes.

"Jah! Have you checked Bubba's port-ill?" Em interjected getting full-on in on the action now.

"Not yet," Liv said. "Should I have?"

"Yes!" Ben pressed.

"Jah! Jes!" Em added again for him.

"But it's OK. I brought the letter!" Ben added.

Brian followed after the kid. Found the whole fam-damily at their island counter top in the kitchen space of their living space. Kids up on the stools staring at their Mom at the stove. So pretty much staring at her ass. Brian took his own look too – because she was in those jeans again. The ones she'd gone out and bought in the fall.

When Liv had bought them she'd made some crack about Emmy officially being in the First Grade and Ben officially starting Middle School she'd felt like it was time she officially graduated to "Mom Jeans". Brian wasn't entirely sure what that meant. He assumed it was some kind of thing. But he was sure that stress and diet (and likely some middle age) had done its thing to both their bodies that year. For better and worse. And for better – whatever label or cut or whatever-the-fuck those jeans were, they hugged all the right places and hit all Liv's right curves. So, as far as he was concerned, Liv should likely be going out and investing in a couple more pairs of these 'Mom Jeans'.

She looked good, though. That blue sweater of hers that hit the right places too. And, always just nice to see her in more casual shit than some of her work attire and fucking lighter colors, even though he was one to talk. Sometimes it seemed like their whole family was dressed like they were headed to a funeral. But not that night. Looked relaxed. Looked like she was already in full-on weekend mode – and like she seemed confidant that it wasn't going to get derailed by work shit. Semi-turned to the kids while she was working that skillet that was emanating mouth-watering awesomeness. And she was smiling at them.

Ben had his backpack on the one stool – full on rooting through it. Big Man's fucking backpack was always a fucking disaster zone. Fucking rat's nest. They seriously had to dump it every weekend and clean it out just to keep that hoarding-Doomsday Preparedness pack under some kind of control. Em was up on her knees staring at a bit of a charcuterie board Liv had sitting on the countertop. Nay – Em was all out circling it like some sort of ravenous buzzard. Also pretty much par for the course for their kids after a school day. Even more so on a Friday night. But Brian wouldn't fault Emmy for having her sights set on the aperitif there. His own eyes had definitely shifted there too when he was done checking out his wife's ass.

"A letter sent home from school?" Liv said with a bit of one of those eyebrow raises. But she caught sights of Brian and he shook it off. So "That can't be good?" she teased Big Man a bit.

"It's good," Ben assured firmly.

"Jah, it good," Em reaffirmed.

"Dad!" Ben demanded as he dug. "Do you still have it?"

"Nope," Brian said. "Watched you shove it back in there, Kiddo."

Another giant huff and more digging.

"Mommy is dis snack?" Em asked, elbows so far over on the counter and face hovering over top of meat-cheese-fruit board that she looked about ready to go at it head-first as soon as she got the go-ahead.

"You can have some," Liv approved and Em was into it in an instant. Grabbing as many cheese cubes as her little left hand could take and snagging a bunch of grapes with the right. You'd think they starved them. Liv looked over at him and gave a small eyeroll and a little headshake but she pointed at the board. "It's OK for everyone," she said. "The meats are all gluten-free and it's goat cheese. You too, Benji. Go ahead and snack." But Big Man just gave the food another little glance and kept on searching.

Brian tilted his head in some question. But Liv just gave him a little smile. Start to turn back to her cooking.

"Smells amazing in here, Babe," Brian said, rounding the counter.

Sometimes Liv sold herself a little short on the whole cooking thing. Jack still made sure to regularly remind everyone that Liv had pots inhabited by cobwebs when she first got Ben home. But that was another fucking lifetime for all of them. Brian would definitely give that Liv still wasn't exactly a homecook even in this new lease on life they'd all got. He wasn't sure she got a whole lot of joy out of cooking for the most part. Just wasn't her thing most of the time. But she still wasn't bad at it. She still had meals the kids asked for – over and over. And she definitely had some dishes that Brian would take her whipping up over some restaurant's spin. Wouldn't tell his Ma this, but there were some of the comfort-food basic weeknight family dinner type sheet pan meals and casseroles that Liv did way, way better. And when she wanted to actually cook up a scratch meal – fuck, Liv could do a mean Italian almost anything. So Brian definitely had his own list of dishes that he looked forward to her actually whipping up those couple times per year. His own little list that sometimes he'd work at buttering her up to actually get her at the stovetop and making it on his request.

He hadn't submitted a request this time. But he could tell this was her take on chicken marsala. And he sort of wanted to think that that might be for him. Because it sure as hell wasn't for the kids.

"It smells like mushrooms," Ben affirmed. "I don't like mushrooms."

"Mush-im's fungus," Em provided with her mouth full of cheese. Brian wondered if he should remind them that the cheese was basically fermented milk, bacteria and mold. But he didn't need to stir that pot.

"I like mushrooms," Brian said, as he rested his hand in the small of Liv's back and leaned in intending to put a kiss against the back of her head while she worked. But she turned toward him before he managed it.

"I know," she said and her mouth found his. It was brief. But he could feel them both smile into it. And it was good enough that as they separated they met sightlines and tilted back in for another peck. That was brief too, because:

"You're being gross," Ben informed them.

"Oh, so gross," Liv agreed but gave Brian another little smile. He knew he was still looking a little confused and intrigued by this. Definitely wasn't complaining.

"Definitely don't taste like the marsala," he smiled at her – still measuring this.

Thought they were entering that whole flirty without being overly flirty realm. That whole fucking foreplay without the foreplay while you sent the next like three hours counting down to getting the kids in bed. And then another forty minutes or more just fucking praying they'll pass out quick and hard. Because you're at the point you figure the whole thing is going to end up quick and hard after the green light finally went on.

Only it wouldn't be. Because it was also pretty clear that if they were going to do this – Liv was setting of the long and slow game. But he could definitely buy into that too. Though, maybe should be dumping in a bit more marsala into the sauce and not cooking it down as much. Make sure there was enough to knock out the kids real good. So they could take it as long and as slow as they wanted. It'd definitely been a while since they'd had much opportunity to hazard more than a quick run at things in their epically limited privacy.

Liv pointed off behind him at the opposite side of the counter. Another bottle of wine – a Pinot Noir – open. Two glasses were out. And could see she'd already been working on the one.

"You should definitely have some," she murmured at him, "because you definitely taste like you put back about a whole pot of stale coffee."

He made a small sound of amusement. Wasn't inaccurate. He muttered a quiet sorry and went and poured a glass. He brought her glass closer to her and got a quiet thanks. And grabbed a piece of cheese while he leaned against the counter next to the stove watching her work a bit and watching the kids.

"What can I do?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I've got it under control."

"You sure?"

She hummed a bit. "Spinach – sautéed or salad?"

Ben made a gagging noise and squinted at them. "NOT SAUTEE!"

"Peanut gallery's spoken …" Brian provided.

Liv made a quiet sound. Inevitable annoyed-amusement that came with kids. "If we don't have some of the lemon poppy seed dressing in the fridge can you just whip something up and toss it quickly?"

Brian allowed a nod and went to open the fridge. Turned out he wasn't going to have to do much. The dressing bottle still had enough in it. But still took it over and sat it next to the colanders she had the spinach already washed in and went over to the sink to wash his hands.

"Feel like we're celebrating something here?" he commented as he shook his hands off.

"Ahh …," Liv shrugged behind him, as he moved around to find his own spot on the counter to just toss the salad a bit real quick. "About ten minutes before calling it, my inbox – completely cleared out."

Brian gave her a look. "What's that even look like?"

"I know," Liv said with a smile. "Want to risk that it was a momentary optical illusion. So shut down and left. And haven't looked at my phone since. Didn't want to jinx it."

"That's worth celebrating," Brian allowed.

She shrugged. "And we got through February."

Brian allowed a little nod. "OK," he agreed. "I'll drink to that."

They both held up their glasses from across the kitchen in a little salute.

"First Friday of March," Liv said and took a sip.

"First Friday of March," he managed. He'd definitely take it. Out of their self-ordained annual rough period. Hopefully. If it could really realistically be contained to those two months. Wasn't sure it quite worked that way most years. But maybe if you believed it hard enough you could turn it into fact.

"If we're celebrating, we should celebrate with take-out," Ben said. "Friday we get take-out."

"Well, this Friday, Mom used the take-out money to buy and cook you a nice meal," Liv nodded at him.

Ben made a face. Brian could tell he was about to inform them again how much he hated mushrooms and spinach and how gross their whole house smelled while the meal cooked.

"Not a restaurant, Big Man," Brian warned.

He got some of the squint-eye. "Well, whadda 'bout if I have something real to celebrate? Then can I have take-out? 'Cuz every March has a Friday. How's that a celebration?"

"March is good," Em said. "My biff-day is in March. So I tink I should getta pick how we sell-i-brate."

"You get to pick how we celebrate on your actual birthday weekend," Ben pushed at her. "It's not your ACTUAL birthday weekend."

"I getta pick to eat or pick to do?" Em squinted.

"Both," Ben said. "Unless you pick a party again. Then you only get to pick that."

That got a real squint-eye. The two kids could give it to each other so well it almost always ended in a prolonged stand-off.

"Rock Bugs," Em said.

"There's no such thing," Ben said.

"Jes," Em pressed. "Rocks and bugs. They both real."

Ben stared at her. "You want a rock and bug … party? Or to what like eat them? Bugs?"

"You don't eat bugs," Em protested.

"Some people do," Ben said.

It was fucking hard not to laugh. But Liv still held up her hand. "Enough," she said. "We'll start working out the logistics of your birthday another night, Emily. But … thank you both for the … insight on all the potential possibilities."

Brian did let out an amused sound at that and rubbed at his eye a bit as the kids both looked at him. He wondered how Liv would decide they were going to pull that one off if the 'rock-bug party' was what stayed logged as Em's birthday wish. The kid couldn't ever pick something simple like … Frozen. But maybe she really wouldn't be theirs if she ever did. They'd be looking around to see what had happened and where their girl went when they started getting requests like that. At least this, if Liv could accept the idea of not having all of creation track through their house, they might be able to get away with taking the kid to the park and calling it her party.

"You and Dad still aren't celebrating anything real tonight with your fungus eating," Ben mumbled.

Liv rolled her eyes a bit. "OK, Benji, take-out isn't happening. But – maybe, MAYBE – if someone eats their whole dinner without complaining and making faces and he actually has something to celebrate – MAYBE – since it's Friday, we might be able to go and pick out some dessert. Maybe."

"I'll eat my dinner for ouce-ceem!" Em said.

"Maybe," Liv stressed again. "I still haven't been told what we're celebrating."

"BEN-GEE made dah team!" Em provided, jumping up higher on her knees for emphasis.

"EMILY!" Ben barked at her and then pouted more than a little.

"Hey, c'mon, Big Man," Brian chastised him a bit. "You're taking an eon to find the permission form. Give that to me. Tell your Ma about it."

Ben still did some of his nose flare and stink-eye at his sister. But he let Brian take his backpack and start his own eye-rolling as he worked at pulling all the crap that had been stowed and collected in there that week. With all the digging Ben had done the fucking permission slip was probably in a crumbled ball at the bottom of the thing by now. Do better just printing a new one out on the school's portal.

"What team did you make, Benji?" Liv asked. "Basketball?"

Brian could tell she was kind of confused. But he'd been a little confused when Big Man had come flying out of his after-school program saying the same damn thing.

"NO!" Ben said, sitting a bit straighter and looking excitedly at his Ma. "BATTLE OF THE BOOKS!"

"JAH! BATTLE OF DAH BOOKS!" Em added for further emphasis.

Brian could tell that she was still confused. But Liv put on her congratulatory face.

"Oh, wow," she mouthed. "Tell me more about that?" In other words: Tell me what the hell that is? Brian's reaction had been about the same.

"MOM!" Ben interjected, pulling his knees up on the stool to lean across the counter and almost yell this news at his Ma. "Only four grade sixes got picked! And only twelve kids! In the whole school! I got picked! Ms. Caputo says she picked me 'cuz I know all the 'Classics' like all the old books you read us! And I'm real good at knowing all the myths! And I told her that's 'cuz we read Percy Jackson and Magnus Chase and that I got all the Kane Chronicle books for Christmas so now I'll know about Egypt mythology too. And she said that's even better 'cuz it means I know all about Rick Riordan's stories and he's a real good author to know for Battle of the Books!"

"JAH!" Em added. "And we watch PERCY too! And the light-ing feef!"

"And I told her that Captain gave us the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew sets for our library! And she said it's so awesome that we have a 'library' and that she bets there will be questions about the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew too! And I told her that Grandma was a BOOK PROFESSOR! And she said that was amazing and she bet Grandma would be a real good helper for our team! But I told her Grandma is dead and in Heaven and stuff but that you know all about books and reading too! And so she said she bets you'd be a great volunteer for our team too! Instead. So … I can be on the team … right?"

"ME TOO?!" Em asked, gazing between her mom and big brother.

Ben shot her a look. "No, Ducky, it's for big kids. Middle school."

Ducky crossed her arms and looked at him. "I as good a book reader as you!"

"You're too little," Ben pressed at her.

"But I know Percy too! And I know FR-ENCE! You don't know Fr-ence!"

Ben glared at her. "You barely know FRENCH. You can't even say the word right. And there's not French books in the battle anyway."

"MOMMY!" Em protested. "Ben-gee not lettin' me play too!"

Liv held up her hand. "Emmy, I'm standing right here. You don't need to be tattling on your brother. And, Benji's right. This sounds like it's a … competition …? For bigger kids. You'll have to wait to tryout until you're in middle school too."

Em let out a huff at that. "NOT FAIR!"

"It is fair," Ben said. "I didn't get to play when I was in Grade One either."

Em still pouted.

"So … Benji …," Liv weighed. "This is a competition? At school?"

Ben gave her an exasperated look. "No, Mom," he sighed at her. "It's a team. At school. We only practice at school. We have to play other school and then go to the whole city tournament! At the lion library! There's even prizes. Like medals and trophies! And even like books! For our school and us and gift cards for book stores and stuff! We even have uniforms! Well … we have tshirts …"

"Wow …," Liv mouthed. But she was smiling at the kid. And she gave Brian a look and another mouthed 'wow'. But he knew what she was thinking. Their dyslexic kid was on a fucking book club team thing. It took a couple minutes for that to kind of sink it.

"Here," Brian said, smoothing out some the clumped up sheets of paper he'd managed to retrieve from the kid's bag.

Liv looked at it, flipping pages. Brian knew what she was looking at then too. A fucking long list of the books that MIGHT get asked about in this contest. She shook her head a bit.

"Benji, do you have to read all these?" she said. Brian could hear the gaping in her voice. The near impossibility of them being able to achieve that.

"No," Ben said. "Ms. Caputo is figuring out which ones no one on the team has read. And then she said we'll all hafta be experts on four new books we've never read before. But she said she knows about me and reading. And she said we can pick books that are audio books. And that she knows you and Dad help me and read to me all the time. And she can help me become an expert on my books too. And like I said like she said I'm already prolly gonna be their old books expert! And their myth expert!"

"Wow …," Liv allowed again. But that was more real. Brian could see she was beaming a bit at this … fucking achievement. No just for Big Man. But – fuck – there was achievement wrapped up in all of that for them too. "Well … I definitely think this deserves a Friday Family Date Night to—"

"Farm-icy!" Em provided.

"How 'bout we let Bubba decide," Brian said.

Ben was pulling his thoughtful face. Had a feeling they'd be getting a lot of shots of him looking like that over the next while if he was going to be on this team.

"But wait …," Ben said after thinking on it. "Are you gonna be our parent volunteer? 'Cuz then it can be like a real celebration for you too, Mom! So … you can pick."

Ben gazed at her expectantly.

"So … are you, Mom? I mean … volunteer?"

And Liv looked like a deer caught in headlights at that one. Them and parent volunteers didn't go together too often. Or at least it hadn't. The job and their schedules made a good excuse for avoiding it when the PTA minions popped those kinds of requests on you. But this was different. This was their wide-eyed little boy talking about a hundred miles an hour and nearly falling off his chair with excitement.

But all Liv could get out was an "Ahh …."


	6. Unreal Realities

**Title: Beauty in the Mundane Moments**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: A series of stand-alone, non-chronological ONE-SHOTS set in Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans, A Step At A Time, The Night Before AU. Olivia Benson navigates the job, parenthood and marriage while trying to find the difficult work-life-family balance that comes with being a cop.**

**PLEASE NOTE: These chapters are stand-alone SCENES or one-shots. This is not a chronological story and there is no purposeful continuity. It is just a collection of moments. Some will reflect random ideas or potentially fun, humorous, heavy scenes to write with these characters. Others will expand on a scene from an episode (past or present) or recast the way a scene went while imaging it in this AU. Others will take a kernel from an episode and use it as inspiration for how these characters might've interacted with it going forward. Wherever possible, a year, season number or episode name will be provided to give some context of the general timeframe of the scene — to provide some guidance on where the characters are at mentally/emotionally and the ages of the children.**

Olivia startled at the semi-conscious realization that someone was staring at her in her sleep. She jolted upright on the couch, causing the not-so-light reading she'd been doing to tumble from where it'd fallen on her chest in her drowse to tumble to the floor. The loud thud made her startle a bit more as she blearily blinked the sleep from her eyes and returned to full consciousness – staring at her son looking at her from the foot of the stairs nearly as startled as she initially felt under his gaze.

Her let out a sigh and pressed back some of the hair that had fallen into her face as she righted herself more fully on the couch. "Benj, you scared me," she muttered.

He just stared at her some more, and then his eyes scanned the main floor of the house and the contents on the TV screen. Olivia's eyes followed. Netflix had stopped playing and instead was sitting on a screen asking her to confirm she was still watching. She wasn't. She never had been. Brian had had some stupid cop comedy on. Sitcoms weren't her thing. And cop and crime shows really did nothing for her. She saw enough of that in her daily reality. She didn't need it to fill her non-fiction entertainment hours too. But it betrayed that she'd likely drifted off in her reading for longer than she'd thought.

She bent forward to retrieve the book she'd sent flying. The crash landing at creased some of the pages and the cover. That always drove her a little crazy. She set it on the coffee table to try to smooth out a little. Not that there was a lot of space to do that. Apparently her and Brian were also so wrecked that night that neither of them had been on the kids about bedtime clean up in their living space – and neither of them had been motivated to do it themselves after the kids were in bed either. The children's microscope was on the table along with half their set of slides spread everywhere just waiting to get lost or broken.

Olivia sighed again and began to pick them up – shuttling them into the narrow compartments of their storage container. She knew she really shouldn't be doing it. If any of them did get lost or broken – it should be a lesson to the kids.

'Take care of the things you care about. Money doesn't grow on trees. Mom and Dad aren't going to replace things they've already bought for you when you didn't show respect and responsibility for your belongings in the first place.'

She exhaled a bit more at that interior monologue. Sometimes she sounded like too much of a nagging, uptight mother even for her own liking. And then she cringed a bit and stared at the slide she'd just picked up.

"Benji, what were you and Emmy looking at here?" she managed to get out. Without even knowing the answer she already felt a little gag forming in the back of her throat. She wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know the answer.

"Boogers from Ducky's class," he said, still gazing around the space like he'd lost something. Perhaps his mind … "They're all sick. We were checking for coronavirus."

And she had to choke back the gag a bit more. But looked at him a bit more seriously. "I hope you both were washing your hands well after every step of that scientific investigation."

"Yea …," Benji said. That definitely didn't sound like a 'yes'. But she definitely noted that she'd be washing her hands in the immediacy – and leaving the rest of this clean-up to the kids in the morning. There wasn't much point in asking Benji to do it now. He still looked so timid she was almost wondering if he was in some sort of sleep walk. Or the timing of his evening medication had been off and he was in a bit of a stupor.

"Did you find any coronavirus?" she asked. Just to hear the answer.

"No," he muttered. "Maybe," he corrected. "I dunno. We don't really know what it looks like. Not under that microscope. It's not strong enough. It doesn't look like the pictures."

"Ahh …," Olivia said. She was about to suggest that 1) Maybe if they had any hope of getting a stronger microscope in their future they should start taking better care of the one they had now; and, 2) Maybe it wasn't a super great idea to be digging dirty Kleenexes out of the trash in a classroom full of kids with wintertime colds and then dissecting them to put under a microscope in a house where one person under its roof was on immuno-modulators and another was on immuno-suppressants. But Benji interrupted before she could.

"Where's Dad?" he asked quietly. There was a real timidness his voice that time.

And she stopped her tidy-up and mental mothering dialogue. She looked back at him and really looked – weighing the tone of his statement.

"He's just downstairs, Little Fox," she said. "Uncle John needed some company. I think he was having trouble sleeping."

Benji looked toward the front door at that and contemplated it. And Olivia contemplated him – weighing if he was relieved his Dad wasn't there or if he was really looking to talk to Brian about something. Then? Well past bedtime? Well past when they'd both thought the kids were sleeping?

"Are you having trouble sleeping too, Benj?" she asked.

He looked at her then. But she could see his eyes were starting to glass. His lip was starting to quiver. He was biting on his bottom lip in an effort to hide it – but instead it was a dead giveaway.

"What's wrong, Benj?" she asked – her head and her heart starting to race as she continued to internally weigh the possibilities. As skilled as she was at compartmentalizing on the job, she never seemed as good at it at home. The worst possible scenario always seemed to be her first thought anymore. Blame it on Lewis. Or lupus? At least now she was better able to quickly reel it in and go to less severe possibilities. To remind herself that little boys were little problems. That Benji was still a little boy. At least that's what she tried to remind herself – along with the reality that every scenario had a solution they could get to with the proper patience and effort and work.

But his eyes glassed a little more as he started at her. "Mom …," he cracked a bit. "Do you and Dad put people in jail for looking at sex movies?"

Olivia cocked her head a bit as that statement hit her. Her mouth opened to try to find a response as her mind raced to process that. To weigh the possibilities of why it was being asked. And then to again check herself to not rush to conclusions.

"No, Benji," she managed to say – evenly. "That's not exactly what we do." But she saw a little shake in his shoulders and heard the quiet sob he'd tried to suck back. She shook her head a bit. "Hey," she called at him gently. "Come here …"

She held out her arms at him and she saw him hesitate – for a split second, like maybe he shouldn't. But then it passed and he was against her, next to her on the couch and arms wrapped around her and face buried into her shoulder. Olivia rubbed at his back and rested her cheek against the top of his head.

"Shh …," she shushed at him quietly. "That's not how our jobs work, Benj."

"But Dad makes sure people who do bad things on the internet go to court and go to jail," he crackled like he was still fighting to hold back tears.

"Sort of," she agreed. "But not exactly."

"But you catch people who do sex crime stuff," Benji said. "So it's against the law."

She allowed a sad half-smile at that assessment. "Benji," she allowed evenly. "In many, many, many cases – almost all of them – looking at sex movies … pornography … it's called pornography … is not a crime."

And she exhaled a bit and sat back from him by a few inches. He resisted the change in position and resisted looking up at her more. But she stroked his cheek and then put her index finger under his chin and gently tilted his head until he met her sightline.

"Benji, did you see some pornography?" she asked.

His eyes welled and he shook his head a bit. She tilted her head at him and looked at him more directly.

"Are you telling the truth?" It got a little nod that seemed unsure. "Then why are you so upset and asking about this?"

He bit at his lower lip again. "What kind is a crime … that you go to jail for?" he asked.

She studied him and weighed that rephrase even more. "OK," she nodded. "We can talk about that, Benji. But I think before we go any farther with this conversation we need to back up a bit, so I understand where this is coming from."

His lip quivered. "You're mad!"

Olivia shook her head and found his hand. "Little Fox, there's been very, very few times where I've been really mad at you. But you have seen me mad. Does this really seem mad to you?"

"No," he whined out. "But you're gonna be."

"Mmm …," she allowed. "So you're upstairs and you can't sleep, because you're scared I'm going to be mad with you or because you're scared you're going to jail?"

"BOTH!" he sputtered. "But not me …"

She gazed at him – taking in that comment again. She nodded. "OK," she allowed and she sat back on the couch and tapped at the back cushion for him to do the same. "C'mon. You opened the door. We're going to talk this through."

He just stared at her and she wasn't sure he was going to let himself get any more comfortable for this very uncomfortable conversation. But while he decided she reached for her phone and quickly typed in: "Benji's up. Come back upstairs as soon as you're able." She hesitated for a moment while she decided whether to hit 'send'. She weighed where Brian was and his head was to be able to handle any of this conversation.

But the reality was even if Brian didn't entirely feel ready or able to have this talk with their son – Olivia knew he'd likely be more upset that he hadn't had the choice of how he was going to engaging with this. She knew that as the man – and the father – in the family there were eventually going to be subjects and conversations that Benji would go to Brian about. There'd be ones that she felt her boy would be best served hearing advice and input and guidance from another male. And maybe this was one of them.

But it'd been her who Benji had come to – even if he'd maybe been expecting that both of his parents might be sitting in that room when he'd come down. He'd still ploughed again and now it was her sitting there as the starting point in wading into this territory. And, it wasn't like she felt entirely ready or equipped to wade into this conversation either.

She knew the statistics. Well. She knew that the average age children were now engaging with pornography was 11 – if not closer to 10. She knew all about internet safety and internet predators – and the cesspool of information and imagery and hersay endlessly available to children on their computers, videogame consoles, tablets, music devices and phones. That they were less than two clicks away from X-rated material and that any sort of tracking, blocking and safety apps only worked so well with technology savvy children (that often knew more than you about operating and navigating the devices) and when they could easily access other connected technology and wifi or data that wasn't inside their home. And she knew that the onset of puberty was starting younger and younger. And that by middle school hormones, questions and curiosity started to set in – and sometimes evolved into exploration and experimenting.

But knowing that – as a person and as a cop – was one thing. Even knowing it as a mother was one thing. It was different when it was right there – in your face – presenting with your child's voice and eyes, and body and mind that was still very much that of a child.

Benji's school PTA had actually broached with her about the possibility of her or Brian conducting an Internet Safety session. The ask had come after her and Brian had both waved off participating in the Career Day at the school. Benji had been hurt – perhaps more so that Brian didn't want to participate and talk about his undercover days. But, really, neither of them worked with cases that you particularly wanted to go into any detail about with preteen children. And, with them now both in supervisory roles, either of them was only so interesting. Besides, Olivia knew there were other cop families in the school. Someone from Gangs or Narcotics might be more appropriate. And someone who was still in blue and walking the beat would probably be more what the kids hoped to see. Someone from the K-9 unit would likely score even bigger points.

But those arguments didn't work quite as well when the PTA was looking for a talk for the kids and a workshop for parents on Internet Safety. Olivia had still told them they'd be better to go through Community Affairs. That there'd be pre-developed and pre-approved presentations that they'd be happy to schedule someone to come out to the school to present. And, right now maybe that was best – because she was almost wondering if she was about to feel like she needed a refresher course on implementing rules and security when it came to her children's online activity and screen-time.

"Are you telling Dad?" Benji stared at her.

She put her phone down and looked back to him. "I just told him you're awake and he should come back upstairs when Uncle Munch is feeling a bit better."

Benji gazed at her. She couldn't tell if the concept of Brian being there was fazing him or not. But she decided it was best to move forward and not wait on if and when Brian did return to their part of the house.

"He's gonna be mad …," Benji said.

Olivia just looked at him. "OK, Benji. You need to clarify for me what you think Dad and I are going to be so mad about?"

He just looked at her. His timid eyes glassing again – and then darting around like he was looking for an escape and more definitely wishing he hadn't come down those stairs. But, she thought, she was glad he had. That they'd established the kind of relationship with their child that they could talk about this. That he was the one who was initiating it.

"Benji," she looked at him much more directly, "did you watch some pornography online?"

"No," he spat out. It was firm and weak all at the same time.

She nodded at him. "Am I going to find something that tells me you're telling me a lie if I go and check all our devices?"

"No," he muttered.

"OK, then, Benjamin, why are we having this conversation?"

His eyes scanned the room like he'd locked himself into a cage that he hadn't entirely expected.

"Did you see something at school? During library time? Or on a Chrome Book? On someone else's phone or tablet? "

His eyes met hers. Her Little Box wasn't a very good liar. She wasn't entirely sure that Benji even had it in him to lie. When he tried it was more through omission than right out telling a fib. And he had so many tells – and just that utter look of guilt – that it never really worked.

So Olivia cocked her head at him and nodded a little. "Yea …," she whispered. And he nodded a little too. "OK …," she breathed out. "Let's talk a bit about what you saw."

"It didn't see almost anything," he sputtered out. His eyes were brimming again. "I told Taylor I didn't wanna see!"

"Hey," she hushed him and put her hand on his knee again and just kept his eyes. He looked so upset so she reached and touched his face. She cupped his little cheek that still had so much of that layer of baby fat there. She ran her thumb against his cheek. "It's OK, Benji. I'm not upset. Do I seem upset?"

"No," he sputtered a bit. "But you are!"

"I'm not," she lied a little. "But I can see you are. Can you tell me if you're upset because you're afraid I'm going to be mad? Or that you did something wrong? Or is it because you saw something that was … upsetting or confusing for you …?"

His eyes welled again. And she shook her head. "Benji, it's OK."

"I didn't wanna look," he said. "But Taylor said that I think I know stuff about sex 'cuz you and Dad are sex workers and he said I don't know anything. And he was gonna prove it."

"OK," she exhaled and looked at him. She squeezed his shoulder a rubbed her finger against the material trying to organize her thoughts.

"OK," Olivia tried again. "First, Benji, Daddy and I aren't sex workers. We're police officers – and we both sometimes deal with cases that involve sex crimes. But, sweetheart, I really think you need to just start telling people we're cops."

"I do," he whined. "But Taylor kept asking and asking and asking what you guys do. And then I told him that and then he asked what even sex crimes are and then he started making fun of it 'cuz it's sex."

"OK," she shrugged at him. "I'm really not sure what there is to make fun of about sex."

"'Cuz you're grown-ups and parents and you're always talkin' and thinkin' 'bout sex all the time!"

Olivia rubbed her eyebrow at that. "Benji, the kind of things Daddy and I deal with at work are definitely not things we're talking about or thinking about all the time. They are not the kinds of things that make up normal, healthy, loving sex."

"Taylor says you don't even know what sex is!"

She took another big inhale and exhale. "Did Taylor ask you what sex is?"

"Taylor's always askin' stuff 'bout us and our family and me and Emmy and us bein' adopted! And he says you aren't even my real mom and dad …"

Olivia stared at him and then found that tight little fist of his that was clutching on the cushion. "We've talked about how all families are different, Benji, and made up different ways with different people."

"I know …," Benji whispered.

"And what do we say to people who are ignorant and use the 'real' mom and dad line?"

He gazed at her. "That anyone can end up a mother or a father but being a Mommy and a Daddy is a choice and something you hafta wanna be every day not just one time …"

"So …," she gave him a thin little smile and shrugged – trying to encourage him to shrug off that smack talk from his so-called 'friend' too.

"So he says that it means you don't know anything 'bout sex and likely never even had it and just talk 'bout it and think 'bout it all the time at work 'cuz of that."

"Well …," Olivia shrugged again, "I think we both know that none of that is true."

His eyes welled at her. "He says it is since I don't know what real sex is so you mustn't be tellin' me since you don't know …"

"Mmm …," she allowed. "Did Taylor ask you what sex was?"

Benji shrugged.

She examined again. "Sweetheart, I think we've had some very real and honest conversations about what 'real' sex is. So … why don't you tell me what you think it is? Or what you thought it was until Taylor started saying these things …"

He gazed at her.

"It's OK," she said. "I'd like to know …"

He fidgeted a little and half looked away from her only giving her some side-eye as he muttered his explanation. "It's when two grown-ups who really care about each other kiss and take off clothes and touch. And it's how you make babies …"

"That's all right, Benj. But it's not what sex is …"

He gave her a glance and then fidgeted again – looking away quickly. "It's when the boy puts his penis in the girl's vagina …" he whispered. "And it sounds kinda gross …," he added in an even quieter mumbled.

She allowed a thin smile at that. "I know it does," she allowed. "But you know how we've talked about puberty with you? And how when kids get close to being teenagers their bodies start to grow and change into their adult bodies?"

When kids … but probably not when her kid. Despite talking to Benji about puberty – and sex – they hadn't gone back and gotten into with him just what lupus and all the medications he'd been on might mean for that. They hadn't yet explained to him that a body need a lot of energy and a certain level of health for it to start puberty – at least in terms of growth spurts and muscle mass. They hadn't explained how some of the medications he was on – and the disease itself – might confuse how certain hormones communicated with the appropriate organs to trigger puberty. Or that that might mean he'd start puberty much later than other boys around him. Or that it might not start properly at all and they'd have to give him hormone injections to get his body to do what it was supposed to do. They hadn't talked about what the medication might do to his body – and how it could mean a finer bone structure and less muscle mass on their little boy who was already small for his age and built on small frame. Or worse – studies that said what it might do to the growth and appearance of his genitals as he grew into a man. Or that they'd signed off on using a medication that was known to affect male fertility – but really helped push juvenile onset lupus into remission and keep it there.

They hadn't really discussed when or how they'd bring Benji into the loop of all those things – about his health and future and body … and body image. And all the implications it might have for him. Olivia assumed it'd be why he started to notice other boys were entering puberty and he wasn't. She was more than aware that some kids in his Sixth Grade were already on the way to spurting into their teen-aged and then adult bodies. He was undoubtedly among the shortest in his class. He was easily mistaken for an eight year old when they were in situations where they had to define his age. But Benji hadn't said anything about it yet. He hadn't started to worry about it yet. But Olivia was starting to suspect they may have to at least start broaching some of those areas with him – defining some of his expectations. Though, she hoped they could leave out some of it until later. Until he wasn't this little boy scared and confused and embarrassed by what some kid at school had shown him. When he wasn't a kid who still had stuffies in his bed and Lego Super Hero games as the only choices on his PlayStation and tubs full of Lego and action figures lining their toy shelf at the end of the room.

But for now she at least had to get through this conversation. To define and redirect this misinformation and gross confusion and imagery some little … former friend broaching into the little asshole territory … was bestowing upon him. Putting into her little boy's head before he was ready when Benji already had too much grown-up stuff and life on his plate. Far more than she suspected this other 11-year-old boy did.

"When that happens, the hormones in our bodies, start to make sex sound less gross," she tried. "And it's really, really normal to be curious about what it is and how it works. And, Benj, you absolutely know what it is and how it works."

"Taylor doesn't think so …"

She allowed a small nod. "OK. Did Taylor show you a video or pictures of something … that didn't look the way you expected? Because, Benji, sex can be pretty confusing – even when you're a grown-up and even when you've started having sex."

He gave her a timid look. She exhaled a bit and rubbed her eyebrow.

"Really, Benji … when a man puts his penis into a woman's vagina … that's baby-making sex. But … you should understand too that there's other kinds of sex …"

"I know … you and Dad don't have baby-making sex … just … sex …"

She allowed her head to bob. "That's true, sweetheart. But, really, any time two people who care about each other are kissing and touching – if it starts to involve any touching of private parts … of the genitals, it can be called sex. It's sexual activity. Sexual touching. … Is that what Taylor was showing you?"

Benji looked down and examined the floor – his eyes still trying to get some glimpse of her without having to look at her directly.

"I dunno," he whispered. "I … dunno what it was. I didn't wanna look really."

Olivia nodded and put her hand on the couch cushion near his knee – just close enough so her thumb could do another swipe down his knee cap.

"And that's OK, Benji," she said. "Those kinds of videos and pictures aren't meant for kids. They are for grown-ups. You really shouldn't be looking at them anyways. And, you definitely shouldn't be looking at them in school. They're something – that grown-ups might look at in private. But … it's normal to be curious and it's normal to have questions. But, me and Daddy – we're much better resources to answer those questions than the internet. You can ask us anything. Talk to us about anything."

He did find her eyes at that. "Taylor said if I didn't wanna look at it it's 'cuz maybe I'm gay. And then he said he'd put on gay sex movies for me since I'd like that better."

She frown a little and brushed her thumb down his knee again. "That wasn't very nice of him to say that to you in that way," she said. "But there's absolutely nothing wrong with being gay, Benji."

He'd gone back to looking at the ground.

Olivia rubbed at her eyebrow again. "I bet if you saw any of the pictures Taylor opened when he said that, it might've been confusing too."

It got a shrug.

She exhaled a bit. "Well, it's like I was saying about there being different kinds of sex, Benji. And that sex is really just when you're kissing and touching with another person and it starts to involve touching each other's genitals. It doesn't have to be a man and a woman to be sex. Gay sex just means it's two men doing the touching. And kissing."

"I didn't look at it either," Benji said quietly. "I ran away from him. But he ran after me and he had all the noises turned up."

Olivia did a bit of an interior eye roll at that. That must've been quite the scene. She wondered how no teachers or parents noticed this happening and put a stop to it. More bystander effect even at the tween level.

"It sounded … gross and then … like they were hurting each other bad. The girl …"

She exhaled and frowned and ran her thumb down his knee again. "Can you look at me, Benj?"

It took a long beat – but he did. Though, his eyes remained somewhat down cast.

"I didn't like the way it sounded, Mom …" Benji whispered.

Olivia put her hand over his fist and held at it. "I know, sweetheart," she said.

Her mind churning again. Worrying that somewhere in that lizard brain of his – in his early memories – was sounds. Sounds a toddler left sitting in a closet for hours was made to overhear. Of sex – but not sex. Or abuse and molestation and violation … and addiction, desperation and prostitution. All sounds that he shouldn't have heard and shouldn't have to begin to know or understand what he might've caught sights and sounds and glimpses of. Buried somewhere in the back of his mind and memories.

"Does Dad hurt you …?"

"No, Benji," she told him firmly. "Daddy doesn't ever touch me in a way I don't want to be touched. And the ways he does touch me make me feel nice, loved and very special to him. And that's how sex with someone you care about is supposed to be."

He gave her a look. He was one that didn't entirely speak of belief. She again weighed where that was coming from. What he might've heard as a toddler. What he might've heard between her and Brian when they'd had their few close-calls and outright walk-ins with blankets pulled up quickly and excuses made with both kids.

Olivia exhaled and shook her head. "Benji, beyond you – and Taylor – being way too young to be looking at pornography, another thing to remember about it is it's not real."

"It was real people …" Benji whispered.

"I know, sweetheart," Olivia acknowledged. "But it was a movie. Just like … Chris Pratt is Star Lord, right? In the movies? But in real life, he's just Chris Pratt. He's just a man and he's a husband and a daddy. He's not a super hero – expect maybe to his family. Right?"

Benji looked at her and shrugged.

She nodded. "And he's paid to go and play Star Lord to film a movie. Right? It's his job."

"I guess …"

"Pornographic movies are still movies, Benji. They aren't real and the people in them are being paid to be actors in a movie. They are acting."

It got another glance.

"OK. And just like all the Marvel movies … no matter how many times you watch them, you are never going to be as big and tall and muscular as the Hulk. You are never going to be able to swing from roof tops like Spiderman. And even though we live in New York City – our real life isn't ever going to look like in the movies is it?"

"I guess …"

She stroked her thumb down his knee cap again but let it linger. "So, just like super hero movies, Benji – real sex isn't ever going to be like what you see in pornography. Your body isn't going to look like those men. You partner isn't going to look like those women. And you're likely never going to look or sound like – or have sex – that is quite like what they show in those movies – because it is fiction. It is fake."

"Taylor doesn't think so …"

"Well, I think Taylor is very confused and his parents likely need to have a long talk with him."

His eyes snapped to her. "You can't tell his mom!"

Olivia just rubbed at her eyebrow and didn't say anything. They definitely weren't going to be having a discussion about that – and she was definitely going to be putting in a call to Taylor's parents.

"It doesn't sound to me like Taylor is being a very good friend lately," she said.

Benji looked at her and his lip quivered again. "But he's my only friend."

Olivia put her hand on his knee. "But if he's making you look at things that make you this upset, Benji, that are keeping you up at night – that's not a good friend. And if he's saying things to you that make you feel like you don't know anything? Or making rude comments about people's sexual orientation – about being gay? That's not a good friend either."

"But he's my only friend …" Benji whispered again.

And it broke her heart. All of it.

Little boy – growing up – and bringing bigger and bigger problems home that seemed harder and harder to fix and harder and harder to protect him from.

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**This didn't go exactly the way i wanted. But posted to post. I tried another way of Ben being super-super casual about it and bringing it up in passing on the walk home from school but that didn't really write the way I wanted either. So went with posting this one.**

**I have lots of scenes planned but it will take a while to get to them.**

**-Liv/Taylor's Mom**

**-Liv/Amanda talking about their weekends (and maybe invite to Emmy's party and/or reference to Subway SVU guy)**

**-Jack/Kat (and then some Liv and likely Amanda)**

**-Jack/Renee conversation**

**-Jack/Liv conversation**

**-Liv/Lindstrom (thinking about including Benji in the scene too)**

**-Brian/Lindstrom (or his new therapist)**

**-Brian/Liv cutesy moment (thinking at the basketball museum)**

**-Brian/Liv cuddles pillow talk**

**-Liv/Benji on a 'Real Fox Day' 'date'**

**-Liv/Tucker (have three different ideas for that)**

**-thinking about a Jack/Cragen scene too**

**-maybe the Liv and/or Brian doing some sort of presentation or PTA volunteer thing at the school**

**-maybe something with Ben's Battle of the Books or after-school basketball league**

**-would like to do something with Brian and Munch**

**-would like to do something with Munch and the kids**

**-would like to do something with Liv having Benji at the bull pen, maybe after an IV infusion or blood work**

**Any ideas and/or requests for scenes or scenarios or conversation topics can be DM'ed. I'll consider them.**


	7. Bloodlines

**Title: Beauty in the Mundane Moments**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: A series of stand-alone, non-chronological ONE-SHOTS set in Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans, A Step At A Time, The Night Before AU. Olivia Benson navigates the job, parenthood and marriage while trying to find the difficult work-life-family balance that comes with being a cop.**

**PLEASE NOTE: These chapters are stand-alone SCENES or one-shots. This is not a chronological story and there is no purposeful continuity. It is just a collection of moments. Some will reflect random ideas or potentially fun, humorous, heavy scenes to write with these characters. Others will expand on a scene from an episode (past or present) or recast the way a scene went while imaging it in this AU. Others will take a kernel from an episode and use it as inspiration for how these characters might've interacted with it going forward. Wherever possible, a year, season number or episode name will be provided to give some context of the general timeframe of the scene — to provide some guidance on where the characters are at mentally/emotionally and the ages of the children.**

TIMEFRAME: October 2019, set in S21E06 - Murdered at a Bad Address (FOLLOWS the chapter entitled 'Family' of this series — may be reordered to land there at a later date).

Brian worked on prepping some lunch shit for him and Liv to toss in their bags and then maybe remember them enough to at least take them out at work and toss in their lunch room fridges. Or maybe more like at least their bottom desk drawers. Though, the real most likely was that they'd forget about them and/or not have time to eat them all day. And that they might even just remain in their bags all fucking day. Eventually get dragged home again. Maybe put back in their own kitchen fridge. Maybe get dragged to work again the next day. Be forgotten again. And eventually get tossed because they'd just reached the point of being gross that the food had spent that much time out of the fridge and been dragged that many miles back and forth across the city.

But he drained the fucking chickpeas anyways. Slowly. Starting at the water as it trickled into the fridge. It was distraction. Ways of keeping himself level and not fucking losing it. Expressing his mind and his opinion in a place it was wanted but clearly unwanted in that moment. So he instead tried to think about these fucking salad in a jar things that he was pretending like they were worthwhile to be making. When he knew that him and Liv would both just live on coffee all day at work anyway. But at least it was a way to tolerate vaguely letting himself listen to Liv trying to talk herself into some shit that she clearly wanted to talk herself out of. But was having some kind of moral conundrum about it. Didn't want to be the bitch. Or something. So was likely working at him being the asshole. Brian didn't exactly mind. As long as him being the asshole didn't mean she treated him like the asshole because of it. And he really couldn't tell where that might land. But he also knew his opinion on the matter.

"You really don't have anything to say about this?" Liv finally said.

He glanced up at her. "You really want to hear what I have to say?" he put back to her. Let her decide if she was going to vent on this more or whatever it was she was doing.

But she gestured at him. "I'm trying to have conversation with you," she said – with tone and fucking annoyance that he didn't really feel like should be directed at him. Because he was bubbling up with his own annoyance too. "I'd like to hear your opinion."

Brian looked her in the eye. "My opinion is that I don't want the kids anywhere near him," he said. "And I'm having trouble understanding how you even have any kind of inkling that it's a half-decent idea."

She stared at him. "He's my brother, Brian," she put directly.

Brian stared right back. "He's your half-brother fathered by the man who raped your mother," he pressed back at her. "You really want to wade into all that with the kids when you go making that introduction?"

"I told them he was a friend," Liv said.

"Yea," Brian muttered and looked back to what he was doing. "Really seemed like Ben was buying that one." He gave her a glance and gestured at the food. "You want kale or quinoa?"

"Both," she said flatly.

He nodded and started layering some of the stuff into the jars that'd be forgotten. Actually it might even be a fucking miracle if they made them into either of their bags tomorrow.

"You know you didn't even fucking tell me you had a brother until all the paperwork and legal hoops with Em?"

Liv shrugged. "He wasn't a part of my life then."

He stared at her. "Liv, he wasn't a part of your life ever," he pressed at her. "Except a couple random times this ass-hat shows up and stirs up shit. He's looking for something. Wants something."

"He doesn't have any family left, Bri," she said. "I'm his only family. He just … wants connection. I know what's that like."

"Yea, exactly. And he wants to fucking play on your emotion by using lines like that," he said. "Liv, you fucking deal with these kinds of manipulative assholes every week. Don't buy into his bullshit. He's not family."

She sighed and looked at him. All disapproving like.

"He's not," Brian said. "You really think I'm the only fucking human being that my sperm donor fathered? And you really think you'd be wanting to throw open the doors if some stranger showed up on our doorstep saying he was my long lost brother?"

"Simon's not a stranger," Liv said.

Brian put down the spoons – and knives he was working with. "He's a fucking stranger to me," he said. "And to our kids. He's a fucking stranger to you too, Liv. What do you really know about the guy? Beyond crap in police case files and court records?"

"I've had conversations with him," she said. "I've met my niece. My nephew."

"You've met them," he said flatly. "You don't know anything about them. You've seen them once. You know who your nieces and nephew are? Leo. Rollins' girls – Jesse, Billie. Kids you see. Know. That you're a fucking god-mother to, Olivia. That's our family. That's what we fucking decided. And not some guy who's been in and out of the court system, spent time in jail, multiple arrests going back to when he's a teenager. An admitted addict. That's really someone you want to just let into our kids lives and be their 'uncle'? I don't fucking think so."

"I wasn't planning on introducing him that way to the kids," she said. "I was just … going to give him the opportunity to … get to know them."

"Our kids?" Brian put back at her. "Ben who fucking cowers from adult men? Still. You think they aren't going to realize that they've never met this 'friend' before? Or heard you ever talk about him? Mention him? That this ass-hat isn't going to conveniently slip that he's your 'brother' or their 'uncle'. And confuse the shit out of them. You really want to explain to them how you have a 'brother' you've never mentioned before? Who you have no stories about growing up with? Who's father is the same as yours when you've told them you didn't have a dad growing up?"

"They know that all families are different," Liv said.

Brian shook his head. "Yea. They do. And you really want this to open the doors to them asking more questions about who and where our fathers or? Or worse - where they fucking come from? Because they're already doing that, Liv. Our sanitized vague-itys only work so well. You know that. They're fucking appeasing Ben less and less. You really want this to start conversations about rapist fathers and unknown genetics and disappearing mothers and drug addicts and domestic abuse and fucking molestation? All the shit we do and don't know about who the fuck these kids' parents are. Because that shit – it fucking scares me. I want to put off having those conversations with either of them – and all the fucking fallout we both know it's gonna cause - as long as possible."

She sighed at him.

"Please fucking tell me we're only having this conversation because you want me to fucking talk you out of this? Or to give you permission to tell this guy to just go fuck himself? Listen to your gut, Liv."

"Bri …" she sighed again. Her head shaking and mother gaping like that really wasn't what was going on.

"I can be the asshole," he pressed at her. "I will be the asshole. I will do the whole 'they're my kids too' thing. And, Olivia, I DON'T want MY KIDS anywhere near this guy. You aren't taking them to see him. Not lunch. Not dinner. Not ice cream. Not him getting to see them play in the park. Just hard stop. No."

"You know I dig in my heels harder when we go into that dynamic," she said.

"So then don't fucking make me go into that dynamic, Liv," he said. "This doesn't need to be a fight. I don't think you want it to be a fight. I don't think you want Big Man and Ducky anywhere near this guy either. I mean – fool me once? Fool me twice? Don't go for fool me three times while you're wearing your – our – hearts right on your sleeve. C'mon, Olivia. The fuck …"

She sighed and spread her arms wide on the opposite side of the counter. Putting a whole lot of her weight on them. And just staring at the flat surface for a long time.

Brian just stared at her thinking. He tried to read her thought process by boring into the top of her head. It only worked so well.

Sometimes he felt like they'd known each other long enough – been in a relationship long enough, we enough of a fit, shared enough of a foundation that they got the way the other thought. How they ticked. And then there were all these fucking moments – some pretty fucking important ones – where sometimes it felt like all that just blew out the window.

She finally looked up at him. "Would you come and meet him with me? For dinner? Get another read on him and … where he's coming from or what he's actually looking for."

"Liv, he conveniently showed up at our kids favorite playground less than a mile from our house – in Brooklyn. Last time he saw you – you lived in Manhattan. The guy's …" he shook his head. He didn't want to use stalking but he thought they both knew that she'd at least been followed. This just didn't scream coincidence. Sometimes New York ended up feeling pretty fucking small and full of all these serendipitous moments. But this just didn't ring true at that.

"I know," Liv acknowledged, though. "But maybe you'll feel differently about him – or what his intentions are – if you actually sit down with him."

"I don't think so," he said. And the way they locked eyes he knew that either of them were sure if he meant he didn't think his opinion would change or he didn't think there was any way in hell what she was asking would ever actually happen.

"Bri," she said so fucking evenly, "you're one of the most talented interrogators I know. You know how to get people talking. Put him in the box for me, please. Let me watch what happens."

He sighed at her and slouched his weight onto the counter too – their eyes locked together.

What you did for love and family?

He didn't think this Simon Marsden character had a clue about either.

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**Likely going to do a couple shorty dialogue driven ones like this. Just pound them out quick. Hopefully.**

**Also should've mentioned some other ideas I have for chapters include:**

**-Cassidy/Em and Janet (with some Benji and Liv in the background)**

**-have an idea for a Cassidy/Tucker chapter**

**-have an idea for a Cassidy/Stabler chapter**

**-have an idea for a Liv/Voight chapter based around the CPD AU I've written in (there'd be Bri and the kids in the background)**

**-have an idea for Liv and another mom in a Benji gets a new friend type moment**

**-know I should to a Brian/Benji and/or Brian/Ducky chapter**

**-know I should do a Janet and/or Cragen with the grandkids**

**-know I should do something with Alex. Not sure if it should be Alex/Jack or Alex/Liv, though and no idea for context or conversation**

**-sort of want to do some more 'getaway' different setting/outing type family chapters (e.g. Boston, Queens Hall of Science, Transit Museum, Long Island Aquarium, Fire Fighter Museum, conservation or park areas, library times or science activities, maybe revisit Cragen/Elieen in Florida or her son's farm, sports game outing)**

**-know there should be a Jack/Brian chapter too**

**-sort of feel like a Liv/Barba moment might be appropriate too**

**-and/or feel like there should maybe be some mention of Amaro and his kids**

**-not sure how much to play with Benji but could do some scenes related to science fair, Battle of the Books, hockey, their 'ninja/parkor' club, basketball, etc.**

**-and obviously I need to figure out something for Jack to do with the kids or at least Benji again. But think it might be better to include Emmy and maybe Renee in the next appearance by them.**

**Anyway, any thoughts or ideas for scenarios, settings or conversation topics (or pairings of characters having them) are welcome. DM them. I'll consider. Sometimes I write them.**

**Ideas of moments in episodes that you feel would be interesting recast with this AU's group of characters. Or scenes in episodes that you think could deserve an interesting follow looking at the fall-out or interactions of these characters are appreciated too. It doesn't have to be from season 21. But shouldn't technically go back farther than Season 14, which is when the characters of Jack and Benji were introduced. **

**I'm willing to play with the CPD characters too. Within these AUs of my writing, Brian would've worked with Erin Lindsay in the period after she left the CPD series to work in New York.**


	8. Hand Out

**Title: Beauty in the Mundane Moments**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: A series of stand-alone, non-chronological ONE-SHOTS set in Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans, A Step At A Time, The Night Before AU. Olivia Benson navigates the job, parenthood and marriage while trying to find the difficult work-life-family balance that comes with being a cop.**

**PLEASE NOTE: These chapters are stand-alone SCENES or one-shots. This is not a chronological story and there is no purposeful continuity. It is just a collection of moments. Some will reflect random ideas or potentially fun, humorous, heavy scenes to write with these characters. Others will expand on a scene from an episode (past or present) or recast the way a scene went while imaging it in this AU. Others will take a kernel from an episode and use it as inspiration for how these characters might've interacted with it going forward. Wherever possible, a year, season number or episode name will be provided to give some context of the general timeframe of the scene — to provide some guidance on where the characters are at mentally/emotionally and the ages of the children.**

TIMEFRAME: Set in early-2020, or S21.

"Mmm …," Olivia let escape in quiet protest as Brian's hand moved.

He'd been fingering her. But not.

They'd both ended up deciding to attempt sleep at about the same time that night. Or maybe it was more they both decided they wanted some quiet, alone time without the cramped space on the couch. Or the noise and visuals on the television screen. Or the mess left in their living room or the open kitchen beckoning to them to get up and do meal prep. Or their computers and phones within easy reach guilting them with every ding or vibration and reminding them of all the work they could be working on catching up on rather than claiming a few hours of nothing. Personal time.

It'd been … nice. Needed. But incredibly mundane.

Fresh linens that had just gone through the wash that day. Still warm from the dryer and barely folded before they'd been spread on their bed. The fabric softener filling the room with a faint scent.

A new book from the library that she'd actually claimed for herself on that trip earlier in the day. One that had been on the shelves just long enough – so it had that library smell to it too but wasn't fingered enough that the pages were dulled, smudged and stained with the grease and dirt and grim of an unknown number of hands.

Brian had come up and showered – giving a small complaint about aching muscles and sore knees from all the activities the kids had kept them busy with that weekend. Basketball and ice skating and a walk around the marsh. He'd been in the shower long enough to turn it into a sauna and for her to read through nearly two chapters of her book. He'd come into the bedroom with soft, damp skin with their steamed open pores – and smelling of the brand of body wash she was sure he had been buying nearly his entire adult life. Nothing fancy – but so Brian. And the scent of it mingled with … the scent of him had become a quiet comfort and quiet turn-on that she'd come to appreciate.

She'd appreciated it enough that she'd put down her book and snuggled down into the pillows and blankets when he'd gotten into bed with her. And they'd talked – here and there in bits and spurts – as they stared each other. A rundown of the week they expected ahead of them. Division of roles and responsibilities. Anticipated highs and lows. Questions and statements that were so ingrained in their relationship and routine that none of them required more than a sentence or two of air. Many more didn't require much more than a 'yes', 'no' or 'OK'.

And amidst that usual bits and spurts of talk had been bits and spurts of touching. And kissing. And long periods of little more than just looking into the other person's eyes. And somewhere among the bits and spurts Brian's hand had rested on her hip and then found its way to hook into her waistband of the soft, flannel sleep shorts that were both warm enough and cool enough for winter and menopause. And then at another point his hand – and fingers – had spread far enough downward to spread her sex and find her clit. And then stay there as a presence and a light pressure. It wasn't entirely sexual – beyond being a small tease.

One that built ever so slightly when at some other point – another lull in their sporadic chatter – he'd begun drawing light circles with barely the pad his finger tip, varying it with slow massaging motions in spots, and at pressures, that Olivia had come to accept only could feel so accurately right out of a relationship that extended these years – not just nights, weeks or months. He knew her sweet spots.

And she'd let herself relax into it. As sexual as it was – it wasn't entirely sexual. Even from the start of it. Another thing years had taught her were Brian's moves – and the wants and needs that they grew out of. But there was little urgency in these touches – for either of them. So much so at in the early movements of his hand they'd still exchanged some random notes for the week. They were out of eggs. The Benji's school photo retake was Tuesday. They needed to remember to submit their reference for their parent-teacher conference for Emmy.

If Brian was after sex – or orgasm – that night, he wasn't in any hurry. It was clear it was about her. And he was offering a hand in maybe relaxing, maybe feeling nice … maybe feeling more.

And Olivia had eventually let herself as he made those slow, practiced and purposefully learned movements. She'd let herself settle back onto the pillow. She'd let her one hand and arm settle above her head. She'd let herself feel his closeness and presence as he nudged close to her on the bed and kissed a little at her ear and its lobe and her neck and shoulder. She turned to find his mouth a few time. But he kept the kisses brief and bordering on chaste.

So eventually she just let herself feel what he was doing for her and to work at mindfully being in the moment, which lead to her eyes closing while he played at her. Strummed her pleasure zone. Ever so slowly. Keeping it – her – in a place of warmth and relaxation and not quite tipping her into aroused need that would've sent her urging him to work faster and firmer – and to add more than his fingers to the job.

Where she was – they were – felt nice. Maybe too nice. She'd felt the warmth of the lax relaxation wash over her to the point that her eyes had closed to enjoy it. She'd felt her breathing slow – and perhaps her heart along with it. And Brian must've felt that too as his whole hand moved.

"Done already?" she murmured at him as she exhaled and turned her head toward where he was cuddled against her. She opened her eyes to see his were just opening too.

"Sorry," he muttered but his hand still moved out of her shorts and rested loosely spread at her waistband and navel instead. "I thought you fell asleep."

"Mmm …," she allowed and shifted a bit to roll back onto her side and stare at him again – there top hands finding each other and grasping with weaved fingers against their headboard. Their eyes were both open at that point. But he might've been right. She was so relaxed she knew she was in a state of semi-consciousness at that point. She was aware of where Brian's hand was and she was aware of the warmth of the quiet pleasure he was providing. But she had also been aware that his movements were less and that she was almost drowsing to the point she wasn't sure how long they'd been laying – playing – like that. "Good thing you stopped then …"

"Wouldn't want to cause an SVU moment," he mumbled and rubbed his cheek against his bicep as he still squinted and winked against the drowse she could tell he'd almost just roused from.

"Looks like you were sleeping too," she said.

"Sexsomnia …?" he suggested.

"Mmm …," she allowed with a bit of a head shake. "Not based on my understanding of it."

He just made a sound of acknowledgement.

"What time is it?" she asked, trying to get a bit of a bearing on where they were in the evening. Just how long he'd been stimulating her. Stimulating that at the time hadn't felt like she'd be tipping into orgasm territory. But now that his hand was gone her body was protesting the loss of pleasure.

"I've got no idea," Brian muttered. "And, don't want to move to find out."

She allowed a quiet sound of amusement at that. "Go back to sleep, Bri," she encouraged, massaging a bit at his elbow.

"Mmm …," he grunted a bit. "Don't know I can or will."

She hummed some acknowledgement and found his mouth. They let the kiss linger longer that time. Though, it was him who again let it go to break – and to break their gripped hands too. His fingers instead moving to comb through her hair.

"I can try to help with that," she offered. Her hand that'd been loosely sitting on his waist wasting little time to snake into the front of his briefs.

"God," he squirmed a bit. "Your hand's freezing."

Olivia gave him a quiet smile at that. It was a common protest out of him in their foreplay. But as much as he seemed to jump at the initial touch, Brian usually seemed to warm up to her touch – if not outright enjoy it. Add it to their list of expectations and turn-ons in their relationship.

"You're warm," she told him, finding his mouth again. And he kissed her again. She could feel him trying to relax into her touch – both at their joined mouths and in her hand. But she could tell it wasn't working. He remained nothing more than warm and soft against her hand.

And he sighed a little into the kiss. And broke away. His forehead resting against hers and his eyes clenching shut again like that might make some sort of difference. But she'd removed her hand.

"Sorry," Brian mumbled with an edge of frustration that she knew was directed at himself and not her.

"Please stop apologizing to me," she told him.

He exhaled halting and opened his eyes to stare nearly cross-eyed at her as their heads rested against the same pillow and their foreheads nearly touched.

"My head's just not in the right place tonight, babe …" he said.

"OK," she said and moved her hand again – this time setting it against his cheek. "Do I need to tell you that you're allowed to talk about it?"

He looked at her directly. "Did you just put the hand you had on my dick on my face?" he flat-lined.

She allowed a slightly amused sound and small smile at that. She mouthed a 'sorry' and put the hand on his shoulder instead. "You did just get out of the shower," she said.

Brian shared the small with her. And her hand moved again, though she bypassed his downy cheek and instead played with the cropped buzz that had managed to grow out around his ear and down his neck. She tugged a little at the short, soft hairs and then smoothed them out. And Brian just stared at her quietly as she did.

"Mom really liked what you got the barber to do to Ben's hair," Brian said. "Must've said it like four times tonight. I wouldn't have known what to tell the guy."

She allowed him another small smile. "I'll tell you want to say the next time you want to go in," she said.

He reached and stroked at the hair on the top of his head. "I think I'm gonna let it grow a while."

"Mmm …," she acknowledged but stared at him in consideration. "I like it this length. With this …" she said and put her hand back against the splotchy, salt and pepper down that could maybe be called an attempt at a sort of goatee. He didn't protest her touch – or where her had had been – that time.

He just made a listening sound – and then seemed to just enjoy the touch. The affection. In a way he could and was able in that moment. That night. So she continued – in much the same way he had with her. And, he again, every so often leaned closer to her for a brief, light kiss before staring at her again.

"It's been a while since we've asked Ma to take the kids for a night …," he gravelled quietly.

"Mmm …," she allowed and watched him. "You wanting a night without the kids down the hall?"

His eyes stilled and it hung there for a long moment. "What's it say that I wasn't even thinking of that …"

She hummed a little and traced her finger along his hairline. His forehead and temple and around his ear and down his neck. He prickled a little at the sensation of that touch near the sensitive nerves of his spine – first rocking away from her a bit but then pressing back to her more closely. Olivia adjusted her legs slightly as he returned – them tangling together.

"Well, I'm sure there'd be time for that too," she said. "What were you thinking?"

He sighed a bit and stared at her again. "I don't know. Do you want to go to a movie or something? Just go shoot some pool?"

She allowed him a thin smile rested her head on the pillow – measuring him. "We could do that," she allowed.

He sighed and shook his head a little – at himself it seemed. "Nah, you're right. That's a shit use of time. Lame-ass reason to ask Mom to take the kids."

Olivia shrugged. "Bri, she'd take any excuse to have the kids to herself for a night," she said. "And, they're fine uses of time. I couldn't tell you the last time we've been to a movie together. Have we ever been to a movie just us?"

He shook his head. And shrugged. But the question hung there. Or maybe it was the answer that hung there.

"I should take you to dinner …" he muttered.

"I wouldn't turn that down either," she said.

He made a sound and looked slightly beyond her for about the first time that night. Off – out the window maybe to find the lights outside or the reflection of himself inside. Though, she doubted it was that. She didn't think Brian wanted to see that reflection that night.

"What's going on in there, Brian?" she asked while she still held onto him.

He fidgeted again against her. His legs moved – almost like he might want to kick her away. To run. But she didn't move. She stayed entangled with him and slowly he still. He sighed and he gazed at her. Olivia went back to tracing her fingertip against him. She kept the gaze.

"I don't know," he muttered. "It's like … it's Sunday night and I'm already dreading the week. I'm already thinking about how to just get through to the weekend. It's like at work I'm just waiting to punch out and get home to you guys. And then when I'm here … it's this different level of too much. The kids … being kids, Ben's health. All the shit that's still hanging at work. It's like I spent my whole fucking career barely taking any of my furlough and now it's like I just fucking countdown to long weekends and feel like every fucking one of the kids' breaks I want to book it out of here."

She gave him a sad little smile and held at his shoulder. "I hear you."

"Do you?" he muttered. "Because I'm pretty sure you'd be telling me that I'm being a selfish asshole and a shit dad if you did."

"Brian, you think I don't have nights too where I put in the extra hour at work not to avoid some of the traffic but just to avoid coming home? Neither of us are Parent of the Year. I'm pretty over the Stubborn Sixes and Terrible Tweens too," she said. "I have lots of nights where I feel like I never thought parenting would be easy but I wasn't prepared for it to be this hard."

"Karma …" he muttered.

"I try to tell myself that the universe doesn't give you more than you can handle …" she said.

"And how you managing on convincing yourself of that when the universe has handed you enough pain for at least two lifetimes ...?" he faded and his eyes looked off somewhere again like he was disgusted with himself on some level.

She shrugged a little. "I think it's more I got the short-end of the stick for one lifetime and then have voluntarily taken on carrying some of that load for at least two other lives," she said and stroked her finger against his temple again until he looked at her. "Maybe three – knowing my third is my other half and carrying some of my load too." "

He made a quiet sound – or agreement or amusement or dismissal? And then he just looked at her.

"Makes things a little lighter most days …" she offered.

"Nice try …," he said.

She gave him a small frown. And they stared again.

"And, the problem at work, Cass, is that you're carrying too much of the load there too," she said. "You're having to play too many roles – when you're supposed to be a supervisory role. And, we both know what happens when we start taking on more than our job description without saying anything about it or putting in for OT. It just becomes the expectation."

"You do it," he said flatly.

"I know," she shrugged. "But I'm selective about when I play detective now. And I'm not nearly as short staffed as you. And I've got some ideas on how to fill the empty seats at this point. You need to do the same, Bri. Get some asses in those chairs and get yourself out of the field and out of the box. That's not your job description."

He exhaled and stared at her. She stroked at his hair.

"And, you're allowed to do what you need to do for you, Bri," she said. "If you think taking an hour after work to hit the gym – and get to hit something – before coming home, then do it. Tell me and we'll figure out how to make it work. Happier, healthier you is a lot better for this family too."

He sighed. "That's not fair of—"

She shook her head. "Brian, I take time too. Look at the after-work drinks I've scheduled with Rafael and Alex coming up. Two evenings, not work-related delays - and you didn't bat an eye. I didn't get given a guilt-trip. I do things for me – for my sanity – too. Neither of us can do it every day – but … self-care, Bri. It's a big part of dealing with these jobs we have. You know that. But it's part of being parents. Being parents of a sick child. Figure out what you need to do – and we'll figure out a way to make that work."

He sighed harder and just stared at her. But Olivia didn't let that self-loathing or guilt look at her too long. She instead leaned leaned in for a kiss. She lingered longer than she knew he would've. But she encouraged him to stay. Swiping his lips gently with her tongue and opening her mouth deeper for him when he responded. And they let that connection grow deeper and go on for longer. Much longer. Until it was Olivia who backed off and gave him a thin smile.

"For the record," she gave him a small smile. "I would not turn some Nashville Hot at Angry Wade's—"

He let out a real laugh almost unexpectedly. "Angry Wade's? Now there's a fucking throwback."

"Mmm …," she allowed and gripped at his bicep. "And I'd gladly kick you ass at some pinball before handing you your ass at pool."

"I don't think so …," he muttered to that part of it.

She just raised her eyebrow – challenge on. "Before planting our asses on the stools to watch the Knicks loose."

"Yea, that sounds like a real good date …," he muttered. But there was a smile to it.

And Olivia shrugged. "And, I'm just as happy to put in for some furlough and get the hell out of his town for a few days, Bri," she said. "But I'm pretty sure we'd have to take those inconveniences down the hall with us …"

"That's a lot of extra baggage," he teased.

Olivia shrugged. "Well loved baggage," she said.

And she adjusted her legs and pressed her pelvis a bit closer to him to make them both aware again of the heavy heat that had rocked against her as they kissed.

"And look at what opening up a bit and letting me help carry some of the load does …"

He tilted his head a bit against the pillow and looked at her. "Semi-soft, middle-aged dick? I pretty sure that's a standard, every day feature of my baggage anymore, Liv. If you hadn't noticed."

She just gave him a thin smile and ran her nails along his scalp. "There's something to be said for familiarity too, Bri."

He made a little sound. But she leaned in and kissed him again. She let it linger and then looked at him.

"Did you take your sleeping pill?" she asked gently.

He gave her a shrug. That was a 'yes'. She knew him well enough to know that too.

So she stroked again at his hairline. "Then it will help you sleep," she nodded at him. "And it will release a little bit of stress for both of us …"

He eyed her. And she watched those gears in his head turn. But as they did – he leaned in to kiss her deeply again. Long and longingly. Until Olivia let herself – and Brian let her – slip her hand down the strong of his shorts again.

And that time there wasn't a protest about giving him a hand. Or about either of them helping the other – as their arms and hands and legs shifted and they both moved to push their barriers out of the way and bury their briefs somewhere in the tangle of the sheets at the foot of their bed.

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**Feedback and reviews appreciated.**

**DM requests on scenes, scenarios, conversation topics and episode inspiration accepted and considered.**


	9. Growing Up

**Title: Beauty in the Mundane Moments**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: A series of stand-alone, non-chronological ONE-SHOTS set in Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans, A Step At A Time, The Night Before AU. Olivia Benson navigates the job, parenthood and marriage while trying to find the difficult work-life-family balance that comes with being a cop.**

**PLEASE NOTE: These chapters are stand-alone SCENES or one-shots. This is not a chronological story and there is no purposeful continuity. It is just a collection of moments. Some will reflect random ideas or potentially fun, humorous, heavy scenes to write with these characters. Others will expand on a scene from an episode (past or present) or recast the way a scene went while imaging it in this AU. Others will take a kernel from an episode and use it as inspiration for how these characters might've interacted with it going forward. Wherever possible, a year, season number or episode name will be provided to give some context of the general timeframe of the scene — to provide some guidance on where the characters are at mentally/emotionally and the ages of the children.**

TIMEFRAME: Set in early-2020, or S21.

Jack glanced down at his phone again as the elevator doors opened, wandering off as he meandered the semi-familiar path to Mom's – Olivia's – office. Renee was blowing his phone up a bit with some last minute shit. Sorta sounded like they wouldn't be hitting the road at exactly the time they'd expected. That sorta sucked. Neither of them drove enough anymore that he was too stoked about the idea of driving in the dark. Maybe they should just wait 'til morning and kinda of blitz it. It wasn't exactly like he was on a strict schedule. But professionalism. Still trying to maintain that.

He was trying to figure out the most diplomatic way to tell her to bail on work and go get her shit and to not let her boss do the whole guilt-trip thing. That place was always gonna be never-ending guilt-trips and sad stories. She'd told them she was taking a few days. So take the few days. Boss and clients were just gonna have to wait. But, yeah. He also couldn't exactly say that to her. At least definitely not that way.

And as he tried to figure out exactly the way he could – or should – say it to his girlfriend who's job was like way more important than his on the importance ladder, he nearly bumped into some dude. Some detective who shot him a fucking dirty look. But Jack just shot it right back. He was pro had dealing with stink eyes. Dude didn't know the family he came from. Evil Eye was within the nutured traits of the clan.

But the Evil Eye shot kinda dimmed as he registered Ma's hold squad room. Shit. He didn't think it'd been that long since he'd been up to see her in the office. But he guessed it'd been a whle. And apparently they'd had some sort of influx of renovation and technology budget funds. Because Jesus Fuck did the place look different. Wouldn't be surprised if they had some sort of architect and interior decorator and even OT in there too.

Very fung shui. Though, sorta pissed him off that Mom hadn't mentioned that she'd gotten to go all Architectural Design on the space. As it was, he could definitely tell that Olivia had at least gotten some input in the whole office space, communal, contemporary design shit. Lots of flat surfaces and sandblasted glass planes to let the light in. Kinda seemed to be her thing. One of them. Now if only the furniture was not only minimalist but Scandinavian inspired and splotched with the randomness and ugliest colors that would never be found together on any kind of color wheel. Then it'd be Mom. Or the living room couch and/or play room at the duplex. Unicorn vomit with a touch of narwhal. He knew were Em got it from.

Fuck. Jack likely would've had some opinions and insights to share here. But, guess he had to acknowledge – again – that he hadn't exactly excelled at the whole figuring out how to be a grown-up in the family this. Figuring out how to not be the starving student that was still allowed to raid the fridge and do laundry at the house on weekends. How to not just be the 'cool big brother' and figuring out just what the fuck it meant to be an 'uncle' to two little kids in their weirdly, fucked-up family dynamic. While pretty consistently being told-off by Alex and Captain Cragen about what a fucking ass-hat he was being. And to get his head out of his own ass. But it still being way better to go over to either of their places and get ragged on than it was to go home and deal with … basically overwhelming angst and trauma melding together into this fucking stew of confusion that eventually spewed out as anger. Just basically a whole pool of emotions that Jack still didn't entirely know how to deal with or express.

So, yea. Jack hadn't really been there for a while. Or depending on whatever hash-it-out and break-it-down session he had with Mom it ranged from like … six months to a year to like eighteen months to like two years to like since he broke up with Christina to like since Christian moved to fucking Illinois and had fucking moved on before he fucking could so he was still spending stupid amounts of money (and time he should've been spending on finishing up his certifications and Masters) on going out there like at least once a month while he trained himself to be blind to the fact she was sleeping with other guys (and pretty much dating another guy by the time they actually did officially break-up from his perspective) and being deaf to Mom and Brian telling him that he was being a fucking idiot and setting himself up for a whole world of hurt and confusion and anger. A deficit above and beyond the fucking dent he'd put in his bank account – and the funds that Olivia had fucking fought for him to have out of his biological family business. Money his … supposed … dad had left him that Jack knew he'd be really fucking pissed off too knowing that he'd blown a bunch of it on airfare back-and-forth across the country rather than like paying off his student debts or going towards Law School or putting a down payment on a house or condo or co-op or something. Something that made fucking sense.

Not that it any of it really mattered at this point. Thinking about it and dwelling on it just made him feel like an ass. Beyond it diminishing what he had with Renee: The friendship – and now relationship – that had come out of all that shit. It'd also entirely fucked up him establishing that relationship with her in any real way. And that just added to the fuck up in the relationship he'd had with his family. Because he was hiding from them all the shit that had gone on with Christina because he didn't want to hear what any of them had to say in any real or meaningful way. And then he was so used to – and so scared of – what they had to say that he'd hid the confusing shit about developing a friendship with Renee and it growing into something else. And that just fucked up and strained things for everyone.

It fucked up his perspective of his post-schooling life. Because again he was so resistant to what Mom had to say about any of it. To hear her out on any thoughts or advice. It'd made him put more and more distance between him and his family. And then he'd fucked up his relationship with Ben-Jamin. And in Emmy in a way. Or at least he'd missed out on some of the fun, little kid, cute shit with her. And he hadn't been there for Ben. Or for Mom. And Brian too. With all the shit going on with Jamin too. The dyslexia and the bullying and all this lupus shit and the kind of drugs that were attached to treating it. That scared and confused him too. And made him angry. And fearful of more blame. Or maybe more like self-blame.

So yea. Royal fuck up. Royal fucking mess. That maybe he'd been working at cleaning up. A bit. As best he could. Because it'd been kind of left to fester in a way that it all required a bit more than a Swifer Dusting. Pretty much even a Mr. Clean Magic Eraser wasn't going to get this job done. It was like an industrial level bleaching that was needed. But that shit just sort of hid things. You pull out the Luminol and it's all still there in the right light. You know?

So no wonder he'd missed Mom changing up the squad room. Or missed her even mentioning that she was changing it up. That some sort of grand renovation was going on there. He'd missed a lot of stuff. And some of it still kept cropping up now over and over even though he was trying to be a bit more present. There was this ever present reminder of just how absent he'd been.

Like this? He didn't know. Maybe he'd been there like … maybe around Em's birthday? Or Easter? Or the end of term? But … fuck … that was like … a year ago.

And he kind of halted at that. And stared.

"Excuse me," a woman's voice called at him. "Can I help you?"

Jack let his eyes move from his weighing and judgement of the changes – both in the squad room and apparently in his own fucking life and just how … much shit could change in one year. It didn't seem like that long of time anymore. Not now that he wasn't a kid anymore. It was like time just fucking disappeared. And as fast as it moved so much could fucking happen.

It took him another second to register who it was that talking to him. But it'd taken him a whole lot of seconds to register how empty this giant sweeping area now was. Or at least how vacant it was of any familiar faces. Though, Jack had known that. He knew that people – detectives and beat cops and anyone else – assigned even as support staff in SVU had like a two-year life maybe. Apparently unless they were like the core crew that had come up under Captain Cragen. He'd held a team together. Mom … maybe not so much. Time passed and people moved on with their lives there too. With her. Or maybe more like without her.

Jack knew that Mom's squad numbers were down. That core team. He knew that Carisi had bailed to live the fucking dream. To put the fucking degree-suck to work. Taking a basement desk in the bowels of the District Attorney's offices. Knew that Barba had moved on – making space for that shuffle that had seen Sonny Boy land over there. But maybe those shifts hadn't entirely registered since he still saw like Carisi and Barba at like birthdays and holidays. Sorta. If he showed. If they showed. They'd seemed kind of omnipresent.

And because of that – like the family Mom … and Brian … had made for themselves and still kept in their lives outside of the job - maybe it hadn't entirely registered just like how different … empty or at least devoid of any familiar faces Mom's version of Manhattan SVU was. Like it was the first moment that he kind of tumbled down on him that Carisi and Barba really weren't part of that work unit for Mom anymore. But more than that that like really … everyone he knew, that he'd grown up with as a member of that 'familiy' … was pretty much gone. Captain was retired. Munch lived in Mom and Brian's Garden Unit and was nearing his death yowls. Nick and Zara … he didn't know even. Were they even still on the other side of the country? California? He couldn't remember the last time Mom had mentioned them or if she even kept in touch. Alex was long gone and he knew that. He knew what she did these days. He knew Renee saw her almost like daily or at least weekly. He fucking texted with her all the time. He'd spent more time with Alex and Trevor and Leo in the past year than he'd likely had with his own family. But maybe he'd never truly stopped and considered what exactly SVU without her in there looked like.

Amanda was still there? Right? And Fin? They must be. Mom would've mentioned if they were moving on. They just weren't there at the moment. Little Dodds dead. Big Dodds? Gone or just no shackles to rattle at Olivia and her crew that day? And that Irish fuck? Bigger Mick than Brian? The fucking asshole that seemed to swoop in and take Mom's job for a day to play some kind of kiss-ass hero and then disappear into the woodwork. Turn Mom into a ball of stress, mega bitch for a week or month … or two. He officially gone or just off in the ether for the moment?

Jack didn't know. And that hit hard too. Just like it hit him that he didn't have a fucking clue who this girl looking at him was. OK. Woman. But a woman like he was 'a man'. She was a twenty-something. Maybe thirty. Maybe. But Jack would wager she was likely closer to his age than she was having celebrated her Dirty Thirty birthday. But she must be. At least. Because she wasn't in uniform and she was in Mom's bullpen. So she must be a detective? Right? And making detective before thirty?

But what the fuck was he even talking about. Both Mom and Brian had made detective before their thirtieth birthdays. And then there was him. Officially on the wrong side of twenty-five and looking down the barrel at the looming end of his twenties and what the fuck was he going to accomplish by thirty? Shit. He hadn't accomplished next to anything comparable to what his 'dad' had by his twenty-sixth. Or Olivia. Or even fucking Brian. And Brian was Brian. Like that wasn't the highest bar to try to jump over. And it still seemed woefully out of reach.

And he supposed Mom had mentioned something about hiring some new detectives. A while ago? Though he thought she'd mentioned it a couple different times? That maybe there was more than one?

He actually really didn't have a fucking clue. He clearly knew next to nothing these days. About like … anyone's lives. In the people he was supposed to be closest to.

So he just gestured absently at Mom's office door. "Benson," he said. "She's supposed to be expecting me," he sighed a bit and looked down at his phone to check to see if Olivia had sent him some kind of update. Though, maybe not so much. Maybe something jumped off and her whole team was tied up. Expect for this girl?

"Oh, yeah," the girl … woman … in front of him said, crossing her arms and giving him way more of a once-over. "You meeting her about a place on the team?"

"Ahh …," Jack gave her a look from his phone. OK. At least he wasn't the only one who didn't know shit about what was going on with Mom's life.

"Hey, between you and me, I thought for sure the Cap was going to fill the spot with one of the Tunnel Cops from Transit SVU," she said.

Jack gave his phone another glance but then shoved it in his pocket. "Oh, yea?" he allowed. Maybe sort of mean not to introduce himself upfront. But also maybe there was something to be said about getting some kind of update on Mom's work life from other sources since he clearly knew shit. Or maybe there was some fault there of her own making too? Maybe she didn't tell him shit?

The girl … woman – detective? – gave him a little nod. She had a real attitude. A bit of a vibe to her. Jack could feel it. But he also could feel it. She had some depth. And immaturity. It seeped off her. But he wouldn't say that was a bad thing. It'd kinda be the pot calling the kettle black.

He could feel her giving him another look. Taking in his attire or something. So much so that he glanced down at what he had on. Like … work clothes. But, yea, he now worked at a place where he could pretty much wear what he wanted. And what he didn't mind getting down and dirty in. To get into the workshop or the drafting room. Could move and cut wood and craft models. Engineer and design and model. Business workshop casual?

He didn't know. He was maybe like half-step above what he'd wear if he was back working the build counter at Funky's. And maybe a full step above what he'd have on if he was leading the class for little Grommies learning to pedal on the weekends. And maybe like two steps above what he'd wear if he was going to be spending his Saturday laying down lines at the skate park or the piers. So maybe he pretty much looked like a New York twenty-something straight guy? Some kind of urban Millennial Hipster? Or as Mom sometimes teased him now – on the days they actually had a good vibe going on between them – that he dressed 'so New York'. Yea, maybe for a kid from a dairy farm upstate. Likely.

Still, he always felt more than a little awkward when anyone really looked at him. He'd prefer to just kinda fade into the background. So he spun at the wheel of his deck while this detective girl looked at him. And then his deck.

"Nice piece," she said.

Jack glanced down at his custom built. It'd been a hardcore expense. He'd sorta gifted it to himself when he'd finished school and wished he could justify just making a living at Funky's than using his fancy ass, six-figure degree. Bought all the pieces individually. Best of the best. In his mind. Put it together himself. Labor of love. And then rode the living shit out of it all fucking summer and fall while his first real job ate his soul in the hours he wasn't chewing up the concrete. It was well loved at this point. To the point that he knew that only someone who was clued in in some way to the sport would even recognize the quality he had in his hand – and under his feet.

"Yea, thanks …," he managed. Because, yea, he still kinda sucked at talking to most girls. Or human beings in general. At least any ones over like … 16? But that sounded perv-y. Fuck.

"So what's your name?" she said.

Jack took a beat. "Jack," he allowed. He waited. He knew cops did the whole last name thing. But she didn't call him on it.

"Kat," she said and stuck out her hand. He took it. Fuck. She had a crushing grip. "Tamin."

"Hey," he allowed passively and then way more than passively checked his crushed knuckles after she let him go. Jesus fuck. Wouldn't want to get into a fist fight or arm wrestle with her.

"So where you looking to come over from?" she asked but then answered for herself. "Narcotics? They got you doing U.C.?" And she gestured at his clothes again.

Jack gave his clothes another glance. "Umm …"

"You look super familiar," she said. "Hey, did you work that Brooklyn skate park bust?"

"Oh, man," Jack muttered with a head shake. "That fucking drug den right across from the park?"

"Yea …," Kat nodded like she had it all figured out.

"Ah, man, that situation was just shitty," Jack said. "Coke was such a problem in that park. And it still took so long to shut them down."

"Yea, ain't that the way it goes," Kat said with a headshake. "Sometimes all the red tape and legalities these lawyers come up with. Right?"

Jack just made a sound of agreement and grabbed at his phone as it buzzed. OK. At least Mom knew she was running late. He pushed it back into his pants pocket. And looked back at this Kat. And, OK, he thought maybe he'd heard Mom say that name.

"Hey, just between you and me, I got pulled over for a U.C. assignment here too as part of the whole job interview. But, if they're calling you up, it's gonna be a rough gig. I mean … did they say where they are sending you? Into a college or high school or something?"

Jack just shook his head and shrugged.

Kat nodded back and forth and weighed him like she was really weighing him again. "Just so you know, I've kind of staked a bit of a claim on the whole U.C. thing going on up in here."

Jack just shrugged. "I'm sure you do. When they need young and female. But last time I checked, not all SVU vics are either."

"Ahh …," Kat gave him a smile and vibed again. "Got your talking points down. The Cap will like that."

Jack gave a little snort of amusement at that. Yea. Wasn't just talking points with Mom. It was talking points that rattled off endless stats.

"One in six men are victims of sexual assault," Jack nodded at her. A stat Mom had rattled at him like that was some kind of statistic that was going to make him feel remotely better about anything he'd been through. "And like fourteen per cent of men – boys – have been sexually violated by the time they're 18. And, gonna guess especially in the like eleven to twenty-one demo – would prefer to talk to another guy. And, have heard you're sorely lacking in the man-folk up in this office lately."

"Mmm …," Kat hummed again and considered him. "Maybe, maybe not. And, I think that the Cap has been working on bringing a bit of diversity at all levels up in here."

"Ah …," Jack allowed.

"So white boy skater dude … I'm thinking you must have some pretty good connects …?"

"Oh," Jack nodded and then leaned in a bit and lowered his voice, causing this Kat to lean in a bit too. "She slept with my dad …"

Kat looked at him a bit –horrified. Her arms crossed a bit tighter as she straightened. "What? Seriously? The Captain?"

Jack gave her a small smile and a little shrug.

He could feel Kat itching to say something else. To ask if he was serious again – seriously. Or to tell him he couldn't talk that way up in SVU. But the elevator dinged and he turned to look. He gave a bit of an interior sigh as he at least saw someone he knew. Even if it was only Amanda.

She saw him too and gave him a small smile and a little fist bump as she passed. "Hi, Jack," she said. "She's just on her way up."

"OK … thanks …," Jack allowed relieved.

"You just know everyone don't you," Kat said, straightening a bit more and examining him.

Jack shrugged and shared a brief look with Amanda. She clearly did an 'ahh' in the realization that Kat had no clue who he was and she wasn't going to clue her in just yet either.

"Just that kind of guy …" Jack said.

"You do seem super familiar," Kat said. "But it's driving me crazy. I can't quite place you. I don't know. I feel like maybe we were back-up or second-line on something together?"

Jack gave her another shrug. "I kinda doubt it."

"That face is looking less familiar to me," Amanda said and gave him a nod. "Nice skeevey moustache, Jack."

He made a quiet laugh. "Yea. You know, just trying to blend in for the new gig."

"Not big on razors that side of the river, huh?" Amanda asked.

He allowed her a smile for that jab. Tried to formulate a comeback quick – something about flannel. Or Georgia. But he didn't get the chance.

"Liv see it yet?" Amanda asked.

"Yea," he shrugged.

Amanda gave a small look of acknowledgement. Like she'd really like to hear what Mom thought of it. That she'd likely ask later. And, Jack might like to hear what Mom actually thought of it. Because much like the tattoos, Mom had definitely seen them, but there'd been no comment. It was kinda of indicative of the new territory – or rocky territory – they were in right now. Like things weren't as fucked as before. But they also were just kinda of cautious with each other. It was like they didn't talk as freely. Or maybe you couldn't tease the same way. Or speak your mind the same way. It was kinda of the whole 'can never go back again' sorta thing. Or childhood lost? Jack didn't know. But it was different and he was still getting used to … whatever this was … likely went back to that whole having to be a grown-up in the family now thing. Didn't talk to your parental guardian a certain way anymore when you were supposed to be an adult too. Acted a certain way when you more had the label of 'uncle' than 'big brother'. He didn't know. It was like the rules had changed but he just didn't know the rules, period.

"And what's Renee think of it?" Amanda raised an eyebrow at him.

He gave another shrug and spun at the wheel on his skateboard. "Jack on This is Us?"

Amanda allowed a quiet laugh. "Right," she said. "Not quite." She turned a bit to Kat – maybe gunning to ruin some of the fun. "Jack dates Renee – Clarke. She's an advocate at the uptown Crisis Center. Washington Heights. I'm not sure if you've dealt with her yet."

"Umm … yea," Kat nodded. "I think maybe. I at least know who you mean." And she looked at Jack again. "And, you do know everyone. Seeing the hooks. Maybe we've crossed paths there?"

"I doubt it," Jack said. "I think I've been in there like once."

"This is going to drive me crazy," Kat said.

Jack and Amanda shared a look.

"Ah, well, you skate? Or have had to be a bit of a skate rat?" he offered. "You seem to know a bit," he allowed and stomped his deck on the toe of his shoes a bit. He didn't want to be too mean about it. Even though he sorta wanted to catch the reaction when she realized he wasn't some interviewee.

She nodded. "Yea, a bit," she allowed with an absent gesture. "But …"

"Yea," Jack shrugged. He knew that didn't entirely narrow it down. He could rundown his usual haunts. "Days off I help with the kids' program that Funky's runs."

"Oh, yea?" Kat said and gave him another little gesture. "Community service, community building. Scoring some more points there. Right?"

Jack allowed her a little smile for that. "Tend to put some of my off-hours into hours behind the Custom Build Counter at Funky's too. Basement shop in West Village."

Kat raised an eyebrow at that and gestured at his build. "That explains that."

"Yea, a little," Jack said but then looked to Amanda. "Hey, I hear, that you might be thinking of over-spending at Easter? That Jesse's ready for a scooter?"

Amanda raised an eyebrow at him. "Maybe," she conceded. "But I think your set-up and pricetag will be a little fancier than what my four-year-old needs, Jack."

He gave her a shrug. "I'd set you up with better quality than you'll get out of some box at Target and cheaper pricetag than whatever frou-frou toy boutique you shop at."

"Ah, no, that would be where your—" and Jack could tell she was about toss out a small jab at Mom and that scholastic choice 'toy' stories that she seemed to think were the place to shop for kids' stuff and definitely made you pay out your ass for anything on their shelves even if you could find ridiculously cheaper at the Target or some store near his place in Chinatown.

But before she could make her zing, Amanda had cut herself off and Jack had glanced behind him to follow her eyes. Mom had finally made it upstairs – with her bag and a armful of files and a coffee and her phone all somehow held in her one hand. She was so fucking New York sometimes it was ridiculous. And she was walking at like a million-miles-an-hour New Yorker beeline down the sidewalk type stride. Like she was 20 minutes late and had somewhere to be that was absolutely important. And Jack would agree that at least half of that statement was correct.

"Hi, sweetheart," she said, her somehow free hand giving his bicep a squeeze. "I'm so sorry. Just give me one more minute."

And he watched Mom beeline into her office. As he felt this Kat person watching the scene and really doing the real detective work now. And he could feel Amanda watching it with amusement too.

He turned back to Kat and gave her a shrug. But then reached into his jacket pocket and dug around a bit. He closed the gap with her and offered the card he'd pulled out. She took it and stared at it. He knew she was likely staring at the last name – the Benson in bold type – and really reassessing the whole conversation now.

"Ah, so, yea," he nodded at her. "Architecture firm I work at is all about creating interactive spaces, playgrounds. Community building, blended environments. We've got some cool projects on the go. Always looking for like community input from different perspectives, experiences. Sounds like maybe you've got that. If you're ever interested in chatting, drop me a DM or whatever."

"Ah … OK …," Kat managed and stared him right in the face and then looked at him like she was really taking him in again.

Jack just gave her a nod and followed after Mom.

"So he's …" he heard Kat mouth not so quietly at Amanda.

"Liv's oldest," Amanda said flatly.

And Jack smiled a little at that. Knowing that she'd put the pieces together but that she didn't know the half of it.

"You can close the door," Mom said to him before he got fully inside. He did. "I see you met Kat." Jack gave her a smile and shrugged. Olivia shook her head a little at him. She clearly knew what had gone on. It wasn't like it was a new game. It just usually wasn't one they played with detectives. Like they were supposed to detect things. Shouldn't be able to pull on over on them that easy.

But he only shrugged again and shrugged his backpack off with it. He opened the top and pulled out the primary reason he was there. A giant mosasaurus toy. It was like nearly three-feet long. Some kind of vicious looking reptile, whale, shark dinosaur thing. That could definitely eat … like a whole boat whole. Or at least an Indominus Rex. That they knew. Movies said so.

He watched Mom's face change when she saw it. And then change again as she took it from him and realized that the skin on the thin pretty much felt like lizard skin and was definitely bordering on disgusting despite it's coolness factor.

"OK," Olivia said. "This is definitely not what I was picturing when Emmy said she forgot her dinosaur stuffie at your apartment."

"At least Brian can't bitch about another stuffed toy in the house," Jack offered.

Olivia gazed at the toy, turning it over in her hands while she examined it. "How did she even forget this?"

Jack gave a little shrug. "That was kinda my fault. She thought I'd put in it their overnight bag. It was still all tangled up in the blankets they'd slept in."

Olivia shook her head at this. "I'm also not sure why anyone would want to sleep with this," she muttered. "Or even where Emmy will find space to sleep in her bed if she's planning on turning this into her latest cuddle. It looks like it's asking for nightmares on all accounts. "

"It gets worse," Jack said and stepped closer to her desk and took it from her hands, cranking open its jaw. "You can basically make it eat full toys. And –" and he flipped it and screwed around with a panel on its stomach until it popped open and he displayed to her the numerous plastic dinosaurs, bugs and Hot Wheels that had already made its way to its belly.

"Oh …," Olivia said flatly. "Another dissection toy. Fantastic."

Jack allowed a small sound of amusement and smiled at her with a shrug. "Em's kind of a weirdo."

"Mmm …," Mom allowed and sat down behind her desk, gesturing at him to do the same in the chairs she had there. Jack always kind of felt like they were in some kind of meeting when they did that. But it at least looked more like Mom just wanted to pick at whatever scone-like thing she'd grab to have with her coffee on a flat surface. "She's something …."

"If it's any consolation, I did the whole like grouchy old man thing and made her spend her own cash on it. I mean, first I offered to get it for her birthday. But she gave a hard-no to that when she realized she was going to have to wait."

"Mmm …," Olivia said and shook her head, gesturing at the toy. "How could anyone wait almost a whole month to have something a cool as this in their permanent possession?"

Jack allowed a suppressed laugh at that. But gave her a shrug. "I might've saved you from the whole rock-insect-owl-pellet-dissection, 'It's science' birthday," he offered. "Seem to have her convinced dinosaurs are pretty cool and fossils are kinda like rocks."

"I think that just means it will be a dinosaur-insect-owl-pellet 'It's science' birthday," Olivia said and took a sip of her coffee. It looked like it was still really hot from wherever she'd gotten it from.

Jack shrugged. "I told her about the special T-rex exhibit up at the Natural History museum right now. They both seemed kinda stoked about maybe seeing it," he offered.

"Mmm …," Olivia allowed again as she picked at what hopefully wasn't the only thing she was planning on eating for lunch that day. Because there'd have been a time if she'd seen him eating like that and calling it a meal she totally would've called him on it and the lecture would've been epic. "That does look good. But at this point I'm hoping to keep this complicated birthday as uncomplicated as possible. Brian's already ordered 'mining rough' off of Amazon."

Jack stared at her. "So – you know – he's basically as paid money to have bags of dirt shipped to your home …"

"Oh, I'm aware," Olivia said. "And he's also looking up instructions on how to build a sluice box for her. Because apparently a sandbox sifter is not good enough for this activity."

"Umm … OK. You know that he's kinda a weirdo too ….?"

"Oh, he's something," she said and lifted her coffee again, hovering it near her lips. "As long as I don't have undigested fur and bones puked up by owls and delivered to my mailbox for my children to dissect with my tweezers … I'll keep him around."

Jack allowed a small smile and gazed at the side of her desk. Sometimes he still didn't really know how to navigate when Mom talked about Brian affectionately. He liked both of them. Loved them. Or at least Mom. But he did better when thinking about them individually. When interacting with them individually. He never really knew how to operate the dynamic when it was like all of them in the room and Olivia was Mom and Brian was Dad and Jamin and Emmy were their kids. And he still didn't know what he was. Or was supposed to be. Or how to fit in.

But he'd also kinda of started to realize – to unpack – that he'd felt that way growing up too. With his own 'Dad' and (likely half-)sister and 'grandparents' and 'uncle' and 'cousins'. He just never felt like he was supposed to be in the room. Or the family. Like he belonged. But he was workin' on it. Trying to figure it out. Only he was clearly kinda delayed on all that. It didn't feel like something you were supposed to be doing at twenty-six. And yet there they were.

"The kids can't stop talkin' about their sleepover with you guys, Jack," Mom offered and he looked back up to her.

"Yea? Because I was kinda … like in retrospect a dark, giant auditorium with giant animatronic dinosaurs in kinda death matches with loud sounds and lights might've been kinda of a shitty idea? They both seemed sorta scared at parts. I was kinda of kicking myself."

Olivia shook her head a little. "I haven't heard anything about that. I have heard a lot of talk about the dinosaurs. And about getting to eat raw cookie dough." She raised her eyebrow a bit at that.

"Oh," he sputtered. "It was just DO. You know? And it was gluten-free, vegan all that. It was Renee's idea."

"I know," Olivia nodded. "She won major points with them. So did you with the comic store."

He gave her a thin smile. "Ah, I don't know if Jam-…Ben … gave you the flyer we picked up there. But there's like some sorta special science exhibit about the Ninja Turtles coming to over at the Hall of Science."

"Oh, he was sure to give us that," Olivia said. "Homework never gets pulled out of his backpack. But that got yanked out real quick."

Jack allowed a quiet smile again. "Yea, I mean, I know the Turtles are kinda Brian's thing. But if doesn't want to take them – or, I mean, I guess even if he's taking them – I'd like to take the kids. Or tag along. Or whatever."

Mom nodded. "I think that sounds like fun," she said and then picked up her coffee again. "Possibly so much fun that I might actually let you and Brian referee that outing find something a little less intense to do."

"Right, like come in here," Jack said with a gesture.

She allowed him a smile. He liked when he managed that. It didn't happen often. "Or like get my hair done. Or actually use that mani-pedi card that Brian gave me … however many Christmases ago."

He just allowed a little nod and sat there again. Sometimes that's the way it was anymore. Like just talking seemed easier. But there were all these silences between the talking that were just awkward anymore.

"We appreciated you took them for the night too," Olivia said. "It's always nice to … have some alone time."

Jack nodded and shrugged. He didn't really want to ask or know what they'd done with their like Saturday night and Sunday without the kids. Thinking about that or wading into it always just seemed strange too. Even though he was sure the answer would be like they went out for dinner or they went out for brunch or some boring shit that they usually did, only without the kids. But still.

"Yea, well, I figured I should get some time in since I'll be away the next few weeks," he said.

Mom nodded at that. But he could feel her watching him. "Already?"

Another shrug. "I am," he said. "Renee is kinda … I don't know. You know … work shit today. It's like they can smell it's not just like a 'vacation'."

"I don't know too many people who vacation in Poughkeepsie, Jack," Olivia said.

He sighed. "But, still. You know. It's like they got wind that she's going in for some meetings about jobs up that way and they're piling shit on to make it hard for her to go."

Mom just exhaled and gave a little shrug. He thought maybe that was some kind of agreement.

"Are you excited at least?" she tried.

Jack slouched a bit in his chair and stared at his shoes for more than a second or two. And then he exhaled too and looked at her with a head shake and a shrug.

"I don't know. It's like … I'm excited to get to be in the trenches and in the workshop for a few weeks. And, you know, it will sorta be nice to get out of the city for a bit. But I don't know about the beyond that. You know? Like if that's where I can really see us being. Or if, you know, it makes more sense to just stay here. Do this go up there when I need to thing."

Mom nodded. "Well, hopefully this will be a good barometer to help you decide what makes sense or what you want and what makes you happiest."

Jack shrugged. "Yea. I don't know. Like there's definitely things I like about up that way. And like the kind of place and the size of a place we could afford? But, you know, I'd miss things about the city. And … you guys … Ben."

She allowed him a thin smile. But Jack knew that even though he'd been mending fences he had a long way to go. And maybe he hadn't even really earned getting to say that again yet. But there was truth to it. Even when he was being an absent asshole to his family – he still missed them. And he felt a ton of guilt about not being there. He just couldn't get over himself enough to like figure out how to deal with all the layers of shit he'd created on his own homefront. He'd shit where he eat and the fallout was just one giant mess.

"It's just other shit too," Jack said. "Like even if we moved to Queens – I'm going to miss Manhattan. But then it's like … right now it's like an hour-twenty to get to work. If the lines all go smoothly. And then it's like the same down to you guys in Brooklyn."

"It's a big city, Jack," she said.

"Yea, I know," he acknowledged. "But like Poughkeepsie – it's like an hour-forty-five to Carroll Gardens."

"If the weather and traffic are good," Mom said.

"Yea, I know," Jack allowed. "But, still. I mean that's not too much longer for a place where our pay checks could go a whole lot rather. Give us a different quality of life."

"And a very different lifestyle," Olivia said.

"Yea, I know," he muttered again. "I'm havin' trouble rectifying that too. I don't know."

"And you'd have vehicle expenses," she provided. "Gas, insurance, maintenance, tolls. It might add up faster than you think."

Jack exhaled and shrugged giving her a look. "Yea, I guess we'll see. I mean … I'm excited about the work. And I'm stoked that Renee is coming up for the first bit. So we have some time to get a real feel of the place – together. You know?"

Mom nodded. "I do. And … I'm glad you two are … that you didn't rush into signing another rental agreement. That you're getting a feel for the job and the commute and different neighborhoods and housing options."

"Yea … real grown-up of me, right …" Jack said.

"It is …," Olivia said. Flatly.

He looked at her. And they both just kind of looked at each other for a bit. There wasn't tone to it. But maybe there was an underlying tone. Or a reality.

And sometimes that reality was still hard to swallow. And sometimes it just really felt like his fault. And it was.

Maybe acknowledging that was the grown-up thing to do too.


	10. Father Figures

**Title: Beauty in the Mundane Moments**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: A series of stand-alone, non-chronological ONE-SHOTS set in Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans, A Step At A Time, The Night Before AU. Olivia Benson navigates the job, parenthood and marriage while trying to find the difficult work-life-family balance that comes with being a cop.**

**PLEASE NOTE: These chapters are stand-alone SCENES or one-shots. This is not a chronological story and there is no purposeful continuity. It is just a collection of moments. Some will reflect random ideas or potentially fun, humorous, heavy scenes to write with these characters. Others will expand on a scene from an episode (past or present) or recast the way a scene went while imaging it in this AU. Others will take a kernel from an episode and use it as inspiration for how these characters might've interacted with it going forward. Wherever possible, a year, season number or episode name will be provided to give some context of the general timeframe of the scene — to provide some guidance on where the characters are at mentally/emotionally and the ages of the children.**

TIMEFRAME: Set in early-2020, or S21. (Would be placed after the chapter entitled "Unreal Realities" and may be reordered in the future to reflect that.)

"And these are real animal bones?" Brian's Ma asked gazing at Em's piece of black construction paper with the little beige-grey-yellow fragments tacked to it with heaping amounts of still sticky white glue. Her face said it all. All it said was that that realization had just taken this 'craft' project, that was being flashed before her so proudly, to a new level of dismay – if not disgust.

"Jah!" his Ducky said so fucking proudly. "It a vole bird! Daddy! Where dah bone sheet?!"

Brian made a small sound and paced back to the front hall of his Ma's cramped little apartment. He gave a glance at Big Man sitting in the even smaller and more cramped living space. Ben was caught somewhere between figuring out where a piece in the puzzle Mom had out on the coffee table went and staring at the TV.

"You want to show Gramma your skeletal diagram, bud?" Brian asked, as he stooped to retrieve where their daypack – aka Ben's medical go-bag stuffed with other crap they collected along the way – had landed when they'd come in the door. He leaned a bit into the door as he grabbed it.

He could still hear Liv murmuring and pacing outside it. She should've moved at least to the first landing of the stairs if she really didn't want the whole floor to at least hear parts of her conversation. She sounded bordering on annoyed. He wasn't going to be surprised if when she did come back in it was just to stay she needed to head into Manhattan to deal with whatever it was her staff couldn't handle or necessitated on-site supervision.

Ben still hadn't replied when he'd straightened and he stared at the kid again. Giving him a good measure. The kid was real hunched over on his knees. He wasn't sure if that was out of pain or fatigue. It was possible they'd maybe overdone it a bit that day. Though, physical Big Man had seemed to be holding his own while they were at the Nature Center. Mentally and emotionally was a different story. And they'd all been taking some of the brunt of it.

"Ben," he called at the kid again and stared at him until he got a stray glance that at least told him Big Man knew he was standing there and talking to him. But the kid was also doing his best not to talk to him or look at him. They were definitely getting some of the tween behavior that weekend. Brian wasn't a big fan of it. Neither was Liv. Practice in patience. "You hurting?" That at least got the slightly shake of the head. Barely. "Come show your grandma your skeleton diagram," he said again but that barely got even a listening sound. But, again it was enough of a sound that he knew the kid wasn't going to do it.

Brian gave him a bit of a head tilt. A stare. But Ben did his utmost to not look at him. Though, Brian knew he could see it. Right there out of his side-eye. Couldn't hide when he was doing that. Ever. Didn't want to put on too much of a show for his Ma, though. So just gave the kid a real head shake. One that he made sure was a sign of his disapproval and a warning against acting out too much at Gramma's place. But then he just left it, pacing back to the kitchen and setting the bag on the little diner-esque table set up as a two-seater that she'd had about as long as he could remember her being in that place. So occupying a chunk of his growing up at least.

He knew Ma would have him pulling the out from the wall and working against its age to get it to fold up. Send him digging the card-table chairs from under her couch for them all to huddle around, elbowing each other during the dinner.

Since Liv and the kids Ma had repeatedly talked about getting something bigger for family dinners. But he didn't know where she thought she'd put it. And she must've come to the same conclusion because it had never appeared even if she always apologized and lamented the need for it when they did eat over there. A whole lot of the time after he'd managed to get it expanded and the chairs around it, she'd just decide it was going to be too crowded. The thing would end up as a buffet of sorts to place pots on and self-serve from. Then she'd shove everyone into the living space. Letting the kids stake a claim on their asses with their plates at chin level on the coffee table while the rest of them balanced their plates on their knees while they ate.

"And where'd these bones come from?" Ma was asking Em, giving him a look of disbelief. He was pretty sure she'd actually already asked Em that question and she was looking at him with the hope he'd give another answer.

"OW-ILL PILL-ITS!" Em said, still seeping with enthusiasm.

"Owl pellets?" she asked cautiously and shook her head giving him another look. "Please tell me that's not bird poop?"

"NO!" Em bounced up on her knees in the chair. "It puke!"

Brian got a real look from his mom before she looked back to the little girl that time.

"Owl puke?"

"Jep!" Em beamed.

Brian pulled the sheets they'd been given for the bone identification process that the kids had been given while they dissected their pellet and then glued together a diagram of their ingested animal. And then he put Ben's on the table too.

"That's Ben's," Brian muttered.

Big Man had taken less artistic and scientific liberty with his than Em had. But its pretty unmistakeable splaying of a rodent – even to an untrained eye – had only made his Ma cringe more.

Ducky grabbed at the identification sheet and spread it out next to her skeleton project.

"My ow-ill eat a vole and a bird," she said confidentially but added, "I think." But then she pointed proudly from the bone identification sheet to the bones swimming in glue on her paper. "See … dat, dat and dat, dat."

Ma just cringed more. But Em looked up at her just glowing with pride.

"So I make a vole bird," she said. "It base-ick-ally a new 'pee-cees. It science." She tugged at Ben's and stared at it for a long moment. "Ben-gee's a rodent. Prolly a just mouse," she nodded. "Not a new 'pee-cees."

"And they collect these out of owl puke for you?" Ma gaped a bit more.

"Nooooo!" Em corrected and Brian got another look. He gave his Ma a shrug to that one. "Gamma! Day give you ow-ill pill-its. Dat dah puke! Den we die-sect dem!"

The eyes Brian got that time definitely had some disapproval to them. "You let them dissect owl vomit?"

Brian shrugged. "The rangers or whatever did. Supervised activity."

"IT SOOOOOOOO AWESOME!" Em said and leaned against the table to stare at her diagram some more. "Gamma, da ow-ills can't die-jest dah fur or bones. Just flesh. Day puke up dah rest."

And the look stayed on him. "And you think it's a real good idea to be letting Benjamin dissect owl vomit with all this coronavirus going around right now?"

Brian returned the look and give her a head cock with it. "Last time I checked it's not a bird flu pandemic, Ma."

She shook her head. "Last time I checked it doesn't sound like they know much of anything about any of it – to be letting that boy and his immune system anywhere near it."

"They wore gloves and goggles," he pressed at her. Didn't much like getting his parenting assessed. "And washed their hands before and after. I'd say it was way more sanitary than spending five days a week surrounded by ten to fourteen year-olds, Ma."

She gave her head another shake. "And did Alex let little Leo do this activity?"

That got a real eyeroll out of him. Like Alex – and their Upper East Side lifestyle somehow set some kind of standard or example in parenting.

"Yea, Mom," he said. "She did."

He left out that it was Trevor who was the one who seemed a whole lot more interested in the activity – and sat there picking through the clumps of fluff that Leo had done little more than rip apart with the tweezers searching for bones.

But that seemed to be how their whole marriage and parenting dynamic worked. Weekend outings outside the city were at Trevor's suggestion. In this case clumped in with a visit to the guy's family in New Haven, which always seemed to put Alex in a sour mood. So, Brian didn't doubt that the two had had some sort of something or words in the car before they'd met up at the Greenburgh Nature Center for their Sunday.

Their attempts at joint family outings were always fucking awkward. He got the vibe was that Trevor busted his ass to keep bringing home the pay check for the lifestyle they were accustomed to – and the job, income and week-day absences had caused some resent and strain in that family. Always seemed like Alex stood back and let Trevor do the whole parenting thing like she was making some kind of statement. Entitled to a weekend break? That she was off Mom Duty?

Brian didn't really get it. But he stayed the fuck out of it. Even kept his commentary to Liv to a minimum there. Though, she'd definitely brought it up on her own. And she clearly found the get-togethers awkward enough too that she was pretty good at finding excuses to keep them down to a few a year. At least ones that weren't just at each other's places. Brian usually was the one coming up with excuses for when they got an invite uptown. Spending any time in their space – and lifestyle – was its own kind of awkward.

"And Olivia?" Ma pressed.

"Ma, c'mon," he shook his head. "You know Liv's hands on. We've both dealt with a lot worse than some owl puke."

Liv loved getting right up to her elbows with the kids on all the science experiments and craft projects. Sometimes she was almost funnier to watch than the kids. Her look of amazement at some of the outcomes of these activity day things they took their kids to pretty much outdid the kiddos look of sheer glee at their discovery. But Brian would give that all this STEM and STEAM stuff anymore sure put science class to shame compared to when they were growing up. He didn't exactly blame the kids for being so into this shit. It was sure presented in a lot shinier package than forty years ago. Imagine that.

He was pretty sure Liv would've liked to have had her own owl pellet to pick apart. But it wasn't exactly the cheapest add-on activity. But it never was. That was sometimes how they got you at these things. Get you in there on the cheap but then unless you were only planning on doing the nature walk they nickel and dimed you all day. So they'd settled on buying the three pellet pack for the three kids to share. It'd still been fucking twenty-five bucks – which still seemed like a little much for owl puke and a bunch of bones glued to a piece of construction paper. But at that price Liv had settled for just helping Big Man out and combing through the bits of his discarded pellet.

Truth was she likely would've had more fun working on the activity with Em that day. But him and Ben just weren't jiving too well. So had kept their distance. And Liv had settled again for getting to watch Em's excitement and amazement from across the table. That probably had its good points too, though. She'd had her camera out a lot documenting the whole moment. Because what family didn't need pictures of their kids picking through owl puke to go on their mantel?

His mom sighed at him. "I just thought you were going to some maple syrup festival …" she muttered, staring at the takeaways from their outing.

"Yea," he grumbled a bit at her and dug out a small jug of the real stuff they'd picked up for her. She'd definitely been sure to express in the lead-up to this outing that she had wanted to be invited. The kids had been so wowed by their sugar bush outing a couple years ago, could tell she wanted in on it this time around. But given the way she was going at him now, Brian was pretty glad they had side stepped letting her in on their Sunday after the Alex and Trevor dynamic was brought into the mix. That'd been more than enough without his Mom's commentary and body language being there too. "Did that too."

"Dat whaz co-ill too," Em said. "We learn how all dah cent-juries make seer-ip."

"Not quite," Brian shook his head but saw his mom looking to him for more. Live vicariously through them. "They had it set up good," he allowed. "Trail through the sugar bush. Learn about the tapping and then different stations set up to show how the Native Americans would've done the sugar water thing and then the Colonials before getting into their modernized sugar shacks. The big boilers."

"It science too," Em provide. "It e-vap-er-egg-shin."

"Yea," Brian allowed. "It was interesting. Way more educational than the last one we went to. Learned a lot. Right, Ducky?"

"Jep," she allowed. "And we see sap in dah buckets. And we eat cornbread and pour-idge. And den day make mape-ill candy and taffy in the old-in times. Day pour it on dah snow! It sooooo yuuuuummmm! Dah best-est!"

Brian gave his mom a look before she could even give him one. "It was poured over shaved ice. Not snow. To harden."

It got another little headshake. Disapproval. Basically like he'd let the kids pick up snow that some dog had pissed on and put it in their mouths. But Em didn't even notice.

"Den we eat pancakes!"

"That was highway robbery," Brian muttered and found his Mom's eyes that time. "Forty-five bucks for a stack of pancakes and some sausage. Round of hot drinks."

That did get a look of terror from his mom. Another reason it was best she hadn't been with them that day. She always started fretting when she saw them spending money. Brian got it. There hadn't been a lot of it growing up. His mom still didn't have much. It made you frugal. And she'd always bristled – even him with him as an adult in a unionized, decent paying job – when he opened his wallet. She'd become even more conscious about it – when he was spending money on her – since Big Man was sick. She was always checking in to make sure him and Liv were handling the financial implications of all of it OK. Not that he was too sure what she'd do about it if they weren't. Guessed maybe after working as an administrator in an accountant's office for most of her working years she thought she'd at least be able to make some calls to get someone to navigate government forms and potential write-offs at tax time.

But Brian knew that day his Ma would've been uncomfortable with the nickel and diming that'd gone on. Parking fee and admission fee and then a fee for the Maple Towne Sugar Bush and then paying for the pancakes and then paying for the horse wagon ride back to the main building and then extra admission to get the kids into the play barn and the playground and then the final fee to dissect the owl pellets. Well, the final fee before Liv had been suckered into buying the kids maple suckers when she was picking up the bottles of the syrup to bring home. Because apparently you couldn't ingest enough maple syrup in one day.

Reality was it probably hadn't cost any more than a day at a city museum or zoo – especially if it involved any kind of special exhibit or add-on activity and lunch. This place had just annoyed him slightly more when it felt like he was pulling out his wallet every twenty minutes the entire time they were there. Would've preferred they just asked you what you wanted to do and paid it all upfront at the gates. And he knew his Ma would've been cringing too and trying to contribute if she'd been with them. But she had the same sort of cringe the times she'd come up to the Bronx Zoo with them. About a $120 those days – and that wasn't including parking, the near fucking obligatory carousel ride or feeding the family.

It was definitely a good reminder about why his mom had only managed to take him to that kind of shit a handful of times in his own childhood. Least he had that. Liv's Ma might've made a decent living up at Columbia but sure as hell hadn't bothered to do much of anything with her as a kid. Likely explained a whole lot about why Liv was all about the museums and galleries now. Living up in that part of town and never doing any of it until she was old enough to steal away on her own. Though, also sounded like she was doing that by about twelve and it'd taken a long time for her Ma to even notice – or care – she'd disappear for fucking hours at a time. Supposed it was hard to notice when your head was up your ass in your own misery and you were a fall-down drunk. And supposed him and Liv had both had to work on not turning into some variation of either of those things for their kids either.

But the fucking reality was family outings to about anywhere but the park or beach weren't cheap in the city. A whole lot of families priced out of them. Their kids were lucky in a whole lot of ways. But maybe that was part of the reason him and Liv did that kind of stuff with them. Beyond it not being reflective of their own childhoods and them having the means to do this kind of shit with the kids, they were pretty starkly aware that if they hadn't adopted Ben and Em they'd be the kids who never got to do this kind of stuff. Ever. So, yea, they were doing their best to give their kids a childhood.

"Dare pancakes way bigger den Daddy's," Em said. "Day take up dah whole plate!"

"Yea," Brian gave her a small smile and eased into the seat across from her. At least they'd gotten about as close as you could get to your money's worth in terms of size when it came to pancakes. "So big your belly was full before you even put away one there, Ducky."

"Jah," Em acknowledged. "But I 'lil. And I eat dah sauce-age."

"That you did," Brian rolled his eyes a little a gave his Mom another look. "She'd packed them all away before me or Liv even had a chance."

"I pre-ten-ing I a rap-er," Em said, "and day voles."

Brian shared another little smile with his mom and gave another little eye roll.

"And is that why we're watching Jurassic Park?" his Ma directed more over at Ben on the couch than Em. Brian could tell she was likely hoping that Big Man heard and gave her a response and some attention. But that didn't happen.

"Jah," Em said on his behalf, though. "And cuz we go to the rap-er cages," she said.

Brian got another look from his mom at that. He gave a little gesture. "Raptors," he said. "Like birds of prey. Owls. Hawks. Eagles. Had quite the collection going there."

"Ahh …," Ma allowed. Like it was all coming together now. Sometimes it always took a bit with Em. Or any six-year-old.

"Jah," Em said again. "Day live dare cuz day hurt and can't live in dah for-ist anymore. But day still very, very awesome. We learn all bout dem. And see dem fly. And eat mice. And learn day used ta be dinos. Like dah rap-ers. Dat why the rap-ers rap-ers."

Brian gave his Mom a shrug at that. But she allowed him a smile. He knew her sun rose and set on Ben and Em. She loved being a grandma.

"We play in dah play-gown too. It had a bird nest. So you could be an ow-ill."

"Or eagle," Brian suggested. "Think it was supposed to be the dimensions of a real bald eagle's nest there, Em."

"No, an ow-ill," Em corrected stubbornly. "An in dah barn you could use hay to make a nest too. But Leo and Ben-gee just wanna pet the animals. Leo was very a-fade of dah goats."

"One thought the back of his jacket looked pretty tasty," Brian explained. "It gave it a good gnaw and took Leo for a bit of a tumble. Took him by surprise."

"Aw, poor little guy," Mom frowned.

"Dah hor-ises really like Ben-gee. Day came run-in to see him and only let him pet dare nose. Day kept back-in way when I try. It was not fair."

"Yea, well, the chickens really appreciated you making nests for them," Brian provided.

Because he really didn't want to wade into the whole minor spaz out when the horses wouldn't get close enough to the fence for Em to pet them but kept coming right up when she was off doing something else and Big Man was still feeding them. He'd seem pretty taken with them. At least until he spotted a big barn cat that had taken just as much of a liking to him – but also took off as soon as Leo and Em decided they were going to get in on that action. Couldn't say he entirely blamed the cat, though.

But Brian also thought that maybe that'd been a bit of a fall-out point in the day for Ben. They always had to be a little careful around the whole barn and farm-yard smells thing. Part of the reason they didn't get out to Eileen's son's hobby farm too much. It usually incited meltdowns in the kid. Brian didn't think the kid even really knew or understood what was happening when it did happen. That he was triggering somewhere back in his lizard brain there. Buried memories digging their way up to his consciousness in a way he didn't know how to process.

Big Man knew he'd been born on a farm. But didn't think he'd made the connection between that – and all those experiences in his first four years of life – and why he suddenly got so emotionally turbulent any time they ended up near any kind of farm-type setting. How it tipped over into fucking unmanageable if there was the smell of the animals and the manure.

So him and Liv usually steered him clear. But Ben had been really taken with the horses pulling the wagon to take them back to the main buildings after their maple exhibition. It was like the kid was having some sort of fascinated stare down with the things. And like the horses were giving him full attention too. It was kind of weird.

Brian didn't think the kid really fully remembered that there'd been horses in his toddler years either. He actually almost fucking prayed to God – and he didn't pray – that Ben didn't. Not when he knew that memory included a teenaged kid having to try to keep a kid who wasn't much more than a baby warm in a fucking barn. Ben did know he had a 'horse blanket' from his Ma – and that it was one of his prized possessions. Brian wasn't sure the kid entirely understood the story around all that. But that was likely best too. Though, he'd heard the G-rated version enough to know that his mother had had a horse on the farm and that Jack had really wanted horse blankets for them to have back in the city. It always got recited like the thing was some sort of special gift from Jack or some sort of last gift from his mother. Not something Liv had done for the two kids.

It irked Brian a bit. But he also recognized that some sort of parable had to be given when Ben was little but was old enough to have memories of his mother and the farm. Even if they were kind of faded flickers. And the rest of it was built around these things that had gotten repeated to him over the years. Frustrating thing was that Ben was getting older now and it seemed like he was starting to realize that the stories he'd been told – the memories he had – weren't exactly the whole truth or reflective of the reality. And it was getting harder to figure out how to frame any of that in an age appropriate way.

They had enough shit going on with Ben lately that they didn't need a visit with the barn-yard animals to trigger him on top of raising more nearly unanswerable questions. So Liv had hung back with Big Man when Leo and Ducky had wanted to go charging at full speed into the barn to terrorize the animals and rip apart the hay bales. That'd been about the only point in the day that Alex had put on a bit of her own show with over-protective Mommy meltdown and telling-off of her other-half. A whole lot of "allergies", "asthma", "breathing" comments coming out of her. And a whole lot of dragging the kid away from things. So there was some wailing too – even before the goat had given him a yank. That was about the end of the play-time for Leo, though. Alex's line in the sand that resulted in her and Trevor standing off having some kind of clear bicker going on while their kid put on a real production with the tears and screams and Alex tried to wipe off all the mud, slush, hay and animal feed that had managed to get stuck all over the kid. Trevor had pretty much stormed off. Brian actually thought he might've been going to cool down somewhere. But the guy had reappeared with the standard change of kiddie clothes you ended up dragging around with you with kids that age. And then had taken the hand of Leo and his alligator tears at that point to take a hike over to the johns to get him changed out. Bit of a scene there.

But it'd given some time for Ben to get taken with the horses out in the pen next to the barn. Apparently Liv had decided that was a safe bet and had walked over with him to look at the creatures at the fence. The horses had seem real taken with Ben too. Come right over while he was there and let him and Liv stroke at them. They weren't doing that for a whole lot of other people and were backing away when they were getting too much attention from people that weren't Big Man. So maybe he was a bit of a horse whisperer. Liv had floated before that maybe some animal therapy might be good for Big Man. She'd looked into the whole horse thing. Some programs up at Prospect Park that she thought might be good for him. Some dog stuff too. Things she thought might help him cope with some of his anxiety and an outlet to deal with the bullying. Unconditional love and respect. In a way.

But Brian would also say Ben's behavior had changed a bit after the horse petting there. He'd noticed it. But hadn't said anything. It wasn't like Ben was in the best mood, period, lately. And beyond that all the kids were getting little squirrelly at that point in the day. Tired. Sugar crash. So it hadn't been too long after it they'd all packed up and headed back into the city.

Brian had kind of hoped they kids would sleep on the drive back. And that they'd be in a bit better moods by the time they got to Ma's so there wouldn't be putting on a late matinee performance. But hadn't really won the lottery on either account there.

"Jah," Em sighed and leaned on the table staring at her skeleton diagram again – poking at some of the globs of glue like they were slime. She'd used enough you would've thought she was trying to make some new kind of crunchy slime. Likely could almost bunch up the paper and have some as it still was. "Daddy, maybe I have a bird-owl-pellet biff-day?"

He gave her a bit firmer look. "That instead of the rock-insect theme?"

"Mmm …," Em thought about it. Hard. Her whole face scrunched up with it like it was some real equation she had to figure out there.

"Oh, well, I don't know about owl pellets, Emily," Ma said, "but I've seen some really cute owl party decorations."

There was way too much hopefulness in that near plea. Em looked at her grandma. She'd definitely sensed it too in her own little way. And then she looked back at Brian.

"Rock-insect-bird-owl-pellet science part-ee?" she tried. And gave him those eyes. She was really trying to work her little girl magic on Daddy there.

"Hey, we've talked about this," he warned again with Dad Mode tone. "We're working at getting your birthday down to one theme – not adding more to it."

And she looked at him again with that innocent look. "But it all science, Daddy," she stated so matter-of-factly. Like she'd really gotten one over on him. "It a science part-ee."

Brian gave his head a little shake. "Not if it's a rock-insect-bird-owl pellet party it's not. C'mon. You've got to figure this out soon."

"Jah," Em nodded. "So we send out in-vit-ations to evey-one!"

"So your grandparents know what to expect," he corrected. And him and Liv knew what sort of fucking Mission: Impossible she was sending them on for a birthday balloon and themed cake plates and party hats that year.

So far none of her chosen themes looked like anything they'd be able to buy in fucking Party City unless they got real abstract. Black plates for all. It's a piece of coal. Tah-dah. Same for the ballons. Big black one. And any of Em's paper-maiche pretty much could end up looking like a rock easy. He was clearly rooting for this rock party thing. Hell, thought they could find some real 'rock' (and roll) decorations and talk around it into some kind of compromise with the kid. Tell her she 'rocked'. Right …

"And Dack and Ran-knee and Unkie Munchie," she said.

"Yea, them too," he acknowledged.

"Auntie Al-ix and Unkle Tav-er and Leo and Unkle Raffi and Auntie Manda and Unkle Son-ee and Desse and Bill-ee and Unkle Finn," she added. "And he can bing Ken and Ell-hand-o and Jay-den too if he want. And Auntie Mir-and-duh. If he want."

"What happened to us just having your grandparents over for dinner and cake?" he tilted his head at her. "We talked about that."

"Mommy said it a fam-ee part-ee. So dat dah fam-ee," she nodded at him firmly.

"Ah," Brian said with a bit of an eyeroll.

That's what happened last year. Non-party party again. That wasn't exactly a birthday party. More like a dinner party for all Liv's friends and work associates. So he was pretty sure new names would be ending up on the list this year. He'd have to talk to her about that. And get her to have the conversation with Ducky that this was not what had previously been discussed. Not that that would happen. So it probably wasn't even worth mentioning.

"Daddy, maybe we have pancakes and sauce-age too at the part-ee," she said.

Oh. Yea. Everyone would love that. Fuck, and yea, he'd definitely love trying to make enough pancakes to serve like the twenty people she'd just listed off.

"OR LUCKY CHARMS!" she corrected herself and looked at him excitedly. "Daddy, day have unicorn marsh-mellows!"

"Yea, Em, somehow I don't think we can afford to feed all those people Lucky Charms. They're expensive. And not gluten-free. Your brother and I couldn't have them." He copped out.

"But it my biff-day," she pouted at him.

He gave her a shrug. "Just cuz it's your birthday doesn't mean me and your Ma can manage everything you want, Em. You've got to be realistic about this."

He got a squint eye and a pout.

"You're acting tired," he warned. Standard line for cut it out or face the consequences. Time out pending whether you like it or not.

"No, I hun-grey," Em pressed at him, rocking against the table with her contradiction.

"You're hungry after eating all that sausage and half of a pancake bigger than your head?"

"Mhes!" she pressed again.

And Mom was already over at the fridge and retrieving a container. She popped off the lid and held it out at Ducky.

"There," she said. "That will soak up some of that maple sugar you've got running through your veins today."

Em gazed into the container of little oatmeal and nut butter protein balls that had become a bit of an afterschool snack staple for the kids. She carefully went about picking the biggest one.

"Take one to your brother," Mom nudged her. "See if they help you two piece together anymore of that puzzle for me."

Em took zero interest in choosing the next biggest one – just randomly grabbed a second and was off the chair trotting over to the couch.

"Look wha I got," he heard Em say.

And he watched his Mom smile, as she moved over to the counter where she had been working on peeling some potatoes before Em had started regaling her with the play-by-play of their day. But just as quickly her smile faded.

"Benjamin," she raised her voice. She had on Mom tone. And Brian knew that Ben had definitely done something to be a shit if he'd gotten a tone like that.

So he was up and staring down Ben too. Giving him the cocked head.

"She grabbed my piece right from me," Ben blurted angrily.

"Puzzle piece," his mom clarified quietly from behind him. But he appreciated that clarification – so he didn't go ripping into Em about taking her brother's snack.

"He pushed me!" Em added to the clarification.

Brian tilted his head a bit more – keeping firm eyes on Ben. Ben stared back at him at first but then flinched, looking away.

"You don't push your sister," he pressed firm. "You don't push or touch anyone that way."

"Jah!" Em said and put right up into Ben's personal space. His arm went up again. He stopped himself, so it wasn't exactly a push, but it definitely almost resulted in Ducky taking an elbow to the face.

"Hey," he said and pointed at them both that time. "Opposite ends of the couch. Now."

It got a bit of a glare from both the kids but he had enough of a Dad Tone going they both moved. And mirrored their body language – likely without knowing it – crossing their arms and putting on a real pout.

"Now I can't even reach the puzzle," Ben grumbled.

"You wanted Jurassic Park on. I put it on. Watch the movie," Brian gravelled at them. "Both of you. Quietly."

The crossed arms bounced trying to display their disgust. But they listened. For the moment.

Brian moved back into the kitchen and leaned against the counter by the skin. It was his standard position in the kitchen when his mom got him cornered there growing up. Or maybe more in her permanent recital that he was her dishwasher. Seemed like a lot of days of the week he still was when he was picking up the kids after work. Sort of figured it was the least he could do. She did a lot for him still. For the kids.

But right now getting cornered there was more of a self-cornering. It was so he could see her but still keep an eye on the kiddos. Make sure they weren't stirring up shit with each other again. Got the sense that they both might be in the mood to go cruising that night.

"Sorry," he offered to his Ma.

She just gave him a bit of a knowing shrug. She'd raised him. She knew what it was like. And she knew what Ben and Em could be like too. Took them for enough after-school hours to have seen it all.

"He's in a bit of a mood today," she did say, though, and gave him a bit of a look – and that once-over of hers that was still such a mom thing to do.

"Yea," he sighed and scrubbed at his face a bit. He stared at the kids a bit. Right now they were just staring at the movie. But could also see that Ben was still fuming a bit. But he'd curled himself up on the couch – hugging at his knees – like maybe he really was hurting but just wasn't going to tell any of them. Or at least not tell him. He'd wait until his Ma came back in the door.

"Is the lupus flaring?" his Ma asked. "With all these flu bugs going around and all this weather up and down?"

"Yea," he muttered and then shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe."

He knew it wasn't the right thing to say to his Ma. It'd get her all worked up. And get her at him about staying on top of the numbers coming back from Ben's tests and on top of the doctors about what it all meant and checking Ben's vitals multiple times a day. So they didn't get a repeat of Christmas. Even though all of that would do fucking zero to protect them from having another flare like Christmas. It was all just a crapshoot.

And he didn't think it was a flare – even if it might be some joint pain and some fatigue – anyways. But that just made him exhale and rubbed at his face some more.

He lowered his voice a bit. "I don't know. There's this kid at school who's been asking a lot of questions and making some comments about the whole adoption thing. It's got Ben asking a lot of questions about his sperm donor."

His mom gave him another look. Another examination. "Well, he's asked questions like that before …"

"It's different this time, Ma," Brian sighed out with a shake of his head. "They're bigger questions. It's got him confused and kind of triggering. He's not loving our answers."

"Well … how are you answering?" she asked.

Brian scrubbed his face again. "I don't know," he muttered. "How do you answer questions like that?"

"Well, you and Olivia must've known he'd have these questions eventually."

He tilted his head at her. "Yea, Ma. We did. But we hadn't exactly come up with some canned answer. And I don't know how the hell you answer the who, what, where for an eleven-year-old. He's not old enough to hear the answers. Or understand them without them … screwing him up more. And he's not young enough for us to keep giving him some scripted line."

"Well …," she tried again, "can't Jack help you with the script?"

"No, Ma, he can't," Brian spat a little but then lowered to a hissed whisper. "Because Jack's fucking traumatized with whatever the hell all went on in that house too. Because his sister was a junkie who spread her legs to get a fix. And then had men piling on her for freebies on the merry-go-round. As far as we can tell. OK? There's more men than Jack can even tell us. Likely than we want to think about. And we're just fucking lucky that all that's wrong with him is all that's wrong with him after that start. So, if you've got any bright ideas on how to explain that to an eleven-year-old, you let me know."

She gazed at him. There was a mix of concern and hurt on her face.

"Olivia must know how to explain it …?" she offered.

Brian tilted his head farther. "Right, thanks," he muttered. "I think he's already decided that on his own. We're working the same fucking script. But her delivery is better. And, right now, I'm the bad guy in this somehow. Suddenly some kind of lying scum. Getting my fucking heart broken daily."

"That's because you are his dad, Brian," she told him gently.

"Yea, well, in this case I think there's a whole lot better people for him to be pissed at than me," he muttered.

"It's always easier to take it out on the people we know love us the most, Brian," she said. "We usually know – or at least hope – they aren't going anywhere. And I've got confidence you can handle an eleven-year-old boy."

Brian just exhaled and leaned against the counter more. Staring at the kids.

It wasn't just Ben all this shit was triggering. It sure felt like it was dragging up a lot of his own shit too. Memories from childhood. Thoughts about his own father. For Liv too. Creating discussions and conflicts and tension in approaches between him and Liv too. Ones they didn't need.

"Is Olivia alright out there?" his mom asked, drawing Brian's eyes back to her.

He shrugged. "Yea, sure."

"She knows she really doesn't have to go outside to take a call," she said.

Brain gave another dismissive missive with his shoulders. "She likely doesn't want the kids to hear the shop talk. And, I think SVU caught something yesterday she figures my team might usually end up with when it makes it way to court. Don't get the sense SVU will be doing a hand-off. So my guys will have to recluse. So she's keeping out of my earshot too so the lawyers don't go crying about conflicts of interest and tainted investigation, etcetera."

Mom made a listening sound and Brian watched as Big Man wandered into the kitchen and went straight for the fridge – making sure not to make any eye contact with him on the way.

"Hey, what you after there, bud?" Brian asked.

"Juice," Ben said flatly, already reaching for the container even though Mom was already turning to get it and pour it for him. Always the doting grandma.

"Yea, no," Brian said firmly and got a real glare from the kid that time. "You've had enough sugar today, Big Man. It's not good for your inflammation or immune system. OK? Water," he nodded at the sink behind him. "Your grandma's making dinner."

Ben scanned the counter, his eyes setting on the peeled potatoes. "It's my week to pick Sunday dinner and dessert."

"If we were at home, sure," Brian said. "We aren't. You'll get to pick next week."

Ben gave him another glare and then directed it to his grandma. "What's for dinner?"

"Shepherd's Pie," Ma smiled at him.

Big Man went real squint eye at the potatoes. "Mom makes it with yams and spicy ketchup."

"Well, I make it with potatoes and melty cheese," Ma told him a bit more directly.

More squint eye. "What's for dessert?" Ben near demanded.

"I found a really easy gluten-free brownie recipe for all of us to try," she said.

Ben made a face. "I don't like chocolate cakes. Dad does." It got a glare directed his way. "She's making all the grossest stuff you like."

"Benjamin, you shouldn't talk to your father like that," Ma said.

It got a look. An 'if looks could kill' look. "He's not my father," Ben spat. "He's just my dad."

Ma looked at him for a long beat. "Well, it'd say that's a pretty big job that demands a little bit of respect out of a boy who is more than old enough to know his manners around adults."

Ben just glared at her. "I'm not eating your disgusting dinner. I hate all of it."

"Hey, Brian barked. "Don't talk to your grandma like that. She doesn't run a restaurant. You eat what's on the table or you don't eat."

"I already said I'm not eating," Ben pressed at him with eyes.

Brian kept the eyes right on him – until Ben squirmed under them. And then he pointed off at the wall below the window in the living space.

"You aren't being very good company. So you aren't going to get to keep us company. Go. Sit. You nose against that wall. I don't want to see you looking at the TV and I don't want to hear a peep out of you – unless it's to apologize to your grandma."

"She's not even my—"

Brian didn't let him get that venom out. "One …." Ben didn't budge. "Two." Still didn't move. "Three. Three dollars gone," he nodded at him. "Barely started the week, Ben. How many bucks you want to be out of?" Ben faltered a bit and Brian pointed again. "Not a word until it's a whole lot of 'sorries'. With meaning."

Ben stood there. His eyes glassed a bit while he tried to stand his ground. They shifted into panicked, tired gaze. His lip trembled a bit and the kid bit at it to try to hide it. He always did.

"Can I have the water …," he whispered so quietly that it was almost mouthed. "My knees hurt …"

Brian stared at him a beat. He weighed if it was a pity attempt that Ben sometimes pulled with the lupus crap. But he didn't think so. There'd been signs since even before they left the Nature Center that he was fatiguing and he'd definitely seen some indication that his knees were aching since they'd been at Mom's place. Dehydration would make it worse.

So he reached and opened the cupboard to get a big glass and filled it up. He held it and stared at Ben again before handing it over.

"You're going to get the pillow and the blanket off the couch," he instructed him. "You're going to lay down facing that wall. You're going to rest and think about how you've been acting here. How you're treating people. Then you're going to get up, tell us how you feel about all that. And you're going to sit down at the table and have dinner with us. We let you have too many sweets today. And you're over tired. Period."

Ben just gazed at him. Still biting at his lip.

He handed out the glass. "Go," he said as Ben took it.

He watched the kid slowly walk back to the couch, stopping and taking glugs of the water. But then when he got there he did what he'd been told – retrieved the blanket and the cushion and lay down, even ignoring his sister's initial 'you're in trouble' and then her attempts to help him make his nest and tuck him in.

"Ducky," Brian called at her. "Leave him alone. He's taking a time out."

She didn't listen. She pulled the blanket up over his shoulder and then patted at it.

Brian didn't pretend to entirely understand the whole sibling dynamic. He didn't really get what Ben and Em had. He knew he never entirely would. He just didn't have that kind of relationship in his life as a reference point. It confused the shit out of him how Liv and her half-'brother' had any kind of dynamic too. Or with them more some sort of genetic imperative that drew them together and then Liv's personality that made her vulnerable to … trying to help. Trying to fight for people beyond saving. But he could only comment on that so much too.

What he did know was that Em was a good sister. And Ben could be a good brother too. They both cared about each other. And took care of each other. Even after bickering and nattering and out right fighting like they were in some kind of death brawl complete with bruises and tears and wide mouth wails. And then just as easily the next second the two of them would be engaged in a scene like this. Em and her Bubba and Ben and his Ducky.

It was sweet. But it was hard to manage sometimes. At least he knew – hoped – that later in life he could have some relief in knowing they'd have each other. They'd look out for each other. Or at least he hoped that was the way it'd work out.

But he wasn't going to let that go through a test run right then.

"Em," he called again. "Watch the movie."

"But I didn't see dah start," Em said.

"Then work on the puzzle," Brian instructed. "Sit on the couch. We're all taking some quiet time."

It got a little huff out of her but she did plop on the couch and sat bouncing on its edge staring at the puzzle again.

Brian shifted his eyes back to his mom. He was about to issue another apology but she shook her head.

"You don't need to," she said.

He exhaled and watched the kids to make sure things didn't escalate again. "Sure this was just the kind of Sunday Dinner you wanted."

She gave him a little shrug. "We all have our off-days," she said.

Brian just grunted some acknowledgement. But it sure felt like they were having a lot of them lately.

"Have you told the school about these kids bothering him about being adopted?" she asked. "I'm sure other children must be adopted there."

"We haven't gotten the school involved yet," Brian said.

"Well, you don't want this to turn into another bullying situation like grade school," his mom said giving him a firm – but concerned – look.

He sighed a little. "It's complicated, Mom," he said. "It's basically the kid Ben thinks is his 'only friend'."

"Well, this doesn't sound like too much of a friend," Mom said. "Or at least one that needs a bit of an education about the way the world and family works."

"Yea, no kidding," Brian muttered and scrubbed his face a bit. "We've been trying to reach out to the kid's parents. The mom is giving us a bit of a run-around."

Ma gave him a bit of a look at that. "That's strange. It seems like the kind of thing that could be stopped in its tracks with a conversation or two."

"Yea, it's complicated," Brian said again and again checked on the kids to make sure they were likely checked out in what they were supposed to be doing. And he briefly weighed in his mind what he wanted to say. Or should say even. Liv was a deeply private person. But he got that. He was too. They had their secrets. Things they kept to themselves. Shit they worked out on their own. Things they pieced through together. But he didn't think this was one of their joint-state secrets. So he looked back to her. "This adoption thing is wrapped up in this kid trying to give Ben a sex education with his rooted directly out of these ass-hats' offspring showing my kid porn."

His mom gave him a look. There was a flash of surprise there but it tamed. She gave a little shrug and her head a little shake. "Well, maybe that's not so bad or all that complicated to get sorted, Brian. Kids that age are getting curious. Especially boys. You mustn't been much older than Benjamin when you first saw that kind of thing …"

The comment stung – catching him square in the chest – in a way he hadn't entirely been expecting.

"You sure started needing your sheets and athletic socks washed a whole lot more around the end of middle school. And weren't very original in those magazines you had stashed under you mattress."

Brian stared at her. But his chest felt tight. "Yea, Mom," he put back to her. "But looking at nudie magazines isn't exactly the same as looking at triple-X videos on a device you can store in your pocket."

He left out where those nudie mags had come from. Who'd given them to him. Who'd 'showed' him what he was supposed to do with them. Or the kind of near nudie photo-shoots of his own he'd been made to pose for himself. The kinds of pictures that had been in their apartment at some points. Given to him. And that he'd hidden in shoeboxes in the back of his closet or shoved to the back of his dresser drawer – until he could steal away and burn them. So no one would ever see. So his Mom would never see. So no other boys would ever see. But that he was sure other boys had seen. Other victims. All the pictures that Coach Dolan had kept for himself. To hold over you and all the confusion you had as a little kid about what'd happened to you or what it meant for your sexuality or your manhood. To show to his latest protégées in his grooming and abuse. To fucking try to normalize what he was doing to boy after boy. Soul after soul. Destroyed. Kept to fucking look at and relive for years. Decades. Kept for cops to find stowed away in photo album after photo album thirty years later. Pages sticky with a lot more than fingerprints and photo strip adhesive.

But his mom didn't know any of that. As far as he knew. And he didn't intend to tell her. Because what was the point? To make her carry that burden? Live with that guilt? About a past – and a childhood lost – that she couldn't do anything about now. To hav her take on that kind of guilt and self-blame? To fucking explain to her why he was a brawler and a workaholic and had only ever brought anyone home to appease her badgering about if and when he was going to get married and have a family of his own. Just a couple entirely inappropriate women to get her off his back. Until Liv. And just what knowing what had happened might suddenly make that make a whole lot more sense to her – just like it had been some kind of light switch for Liv in their relationship … and sex life. But his Mom didn't need that light switch. And he wasn't going to be the one that did all of that to her. She didn't need that ah-ha.

So she just looked at him now. There was a quiet, "Oh …". Like she'd forgotten – or hadn't thought of – just how much the internet and social media and phones had changed the way kids saw and accessed porn. Younger and younger. Graphic-er and graphic-er. So … whatever it was that Ben had been shown … he hadn't been able – or didn't know how – to entirely describe what he'd seen. Other than it'd upset him. And how much that had to do with what was on the screen versus those buried memories and ingrained trauma that were apart of his being … that was up in the air. But it'd still fucked up the kid. And it hadn't done a lot of Brian and his coping either. Because he was at a fucking loss how to cope with this. And he was leaning too much on Liv to set the example. To try to keep it together by following her lead. When what he really wanted to do was to go and kick the ass of this kid's father. To say 'what the fuck'.

"Well …," his mom pressed out. "I just think you need to be careful with how you talk to him about this," she said. "The tone you take."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Brian pressed out even harder. Partially because of that tightness in his chest and partially because of the anger he felt bubbling up with him.

His ma sighed and went back to halving the potatoes and tossing them in the pot. "You can just sometimes be so strict with that boy. You put on that voice, Brian. It can be a little scary."

And he glared at her, tilting his head. "I am always fair with him," he said and pressed out even harder. Anger bubbling again. "And I've never, EVER raised a hand at him. Or even come close to it."

His mom exhaled and gave him a glance. "I know, Brian. But, it's just boys that age … you need to strike a balance. Especially going into his teen years. You need to be a parent but you have to be his friend too. You need to find some kind of middle ground. So he is comfortable coming to you."

"He came to us," he spat. His chest felt tighter. Restrictive.

"It sounds like he came to Olivia and you two boys are at each other right now," she said and gave her head another shake. "I just know I wished you had your father around at that age."

"No, you don't," Brian shook his head. It was like breathing was getting harder. Shorter. Tighter. His heart rate – it was higher. He could feel it now. Pounding in his chest and in his ears. "Neither of us do."

It got another look. "Well, I wish you had a male role model. A father figure. Whenever I tried to even do the birds and bees and condom talk with you, you'd just turn so red and not ask or say a thing. Get out of the room as quickly as possible."

"Because you're my mom," he put to her.

"Well, it sounds like Benjamin is talking to his mom," she put right back.

And he glared some more. That thud in his ears was making it harder to think, to hear.

But Ma just shrugged. "I had hoped that maybe Coach Dolan was going to be that for you."

And now the pounding was just deafening. The ache in his chest felt more like a concrete plate pressing into him. And his eyes watered with it. Not enough air. And his mom just peeling the potatoes. Chopping and cutting and tossing them away. It was just bits and pieces now. He could hear her and it ached more – all over – but he couldn't process it. It was too much. Too fast.

"Do you even remember him? He was so kind in helping us with those equipment costs when you were so into baseball. And then you just weren't. I'd always wish you'd stuck it out. You weren't too bad, Brian. And that camaraderie you had with some of the other boys on the team. But, no. Just quit. Then you were just off running around with all those other neighborhood boys for all hours by that summer before high school. I never knew where you were. Expect the basketball courts. All those girls hanging around and macking on you boys trying to act like such macho men. With the cigarettes and the boom boxes. And who knows what else. I worried about what all you were getting into."

He'd only heard words here and there. All of it and none of it. All he could really hear was the one word. The name. Echoing in his fucking being.

And he couldn't breathe. Or even think.

And he didn't want his mom to see him like that. Or the kids.

"I need some air …," he managed to mumble.

It was only then his Ma looked at him again. And her face changed. "Brian? Are you feeling OK?"

But he was already almost stumbling for the door. Navigating the short space like it was a maze.

"I just need some air …" he gasped a bit. His eyes were watering. Vision blurry.

"Was it something I said? Are you alright?" His mom followed after him.

"Just give me some space …," he muttered. Stumbling again as he leaned to grab his boots and his jacket. He didn't even stop to put them on. He didn't want her to see. Or the kids to see.

"Brian …," she plead.

But he held out a palm. A clear order to stop. And he opened the door. He could see he startled Liv. He could see her face melt too. Change.

"I don't know what I said …" Mom said again. To him? To Liv.

He pulled the door shut. In her face.

"Amanda, I've got to go …," Liv said into the phone and then she was grabbing at his shoulders steadying him. "Brian …," she examined him. "What's wrong?"

He just shook his head and swiped at his eyes. The watering had more than glassed his eyes. A tear trickled out. He didn't want it there.

"I just need some air," he said. "I don't feel too hot. I'm just going to take a walk."

"OK …," Liv nodded. "But if you aren't feeling well – and you aren't looking too hot there, Bri. So I think I should come with you …"

He shook his head. "No," he muttered and swiped at his face again. "I just needed out of there. Ah … Ben's in a timeout …," he gestured at the door.

"Alright …," Liv said and her hands moved up to his face. His cheeks. Her thumbs on his cheekbones. He could feel their texture. He knew she was making him look at her. And he tried to see her – clearly – through those watery eyes. "Did he say something to upset you again?"

He shook his head a bit in her grip but she held him steady. And he reached to run his hand through his hair to try to calm too.

"Ah, you know … he was just being rude to his grandma …" he managed.

"OK …," Liv nodded a bit. "But, you're triggering, Brian. Your heart rate's through the roof."

He stared at her – only then realizing that her index fingers were pressed below his ears as she cupped his face.

He let out a shaky breath. And she did the same – bigger and more purposefully with the long inhale after it. She was coaching him. And he let her. He matched the breath. Both of them taking five long ones. Inhale until their chests rose and hold. And out through the mouth real slow. Eyes held.

"Good …," she said.

Brian knew his eyes were watering still. "I told her about the porn stuff and his questions and shit he's been giving us," he managed to rasp. "I don't know. She somehow got on fucking Dolan. How good he was to us. How she hoped he'd be some sort of father-figure for me. I just …"

He'd already even gotten that out. His voice shook through the last part. Breathless and tight.

"OK …," Liv nodded and brushed her thumbs across his cheeks again.

"I just need some air …," he muttered.

"OK …," she allowed again. "Is that all you want me to say?"

"Yea …," he nodded breathlessly again.

"Alright …," she agreed.

But he felt the breathing catch again. And the eyes well. "I don't know how to talk to him right now, Liv. It's fucking with me. It's eating me up. And I just … I want to beat the living shit out of this kid's dad. I don't know how to fucking fix this …"

"We're going to figure it out …," she said. She pulled at the collar of his coat. "Take a walk. Not far. Not long. OK?"

He nodded. And she gave him a small smile. And leaned in, peeking a brief kiss against his cheek in the exact spot her thumb had been. And then she opened the door and stepped inside. But before she shut it behind her, he could hear him Mom again say, "I don't know what I said …"

And he stood there a long beat – just hoping that his mom would drop it and that Liv wouldn't say too much. But he didn't wait to find out. He couldn't. He made for the stairs and ploughed down them nearly two at time.

He needed some air. To breathe.

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**Worked hard on this one. Hope it was well received.**

**Not sure what scene I'll work on next. I might just do a short one after this.**


	11. Vapor

**Title: Beauty in the Mundane Moments**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: A series of stand-alone, non-chronological ONE-SHOTS set in Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans, A Step At A Time, The Night Before AU. Olivia Benson navigates the job, parenthood and marriage while trying to find the difficult work-life-family balance that comes with being a cop.**

**PLEASE NOTE: These chapters are stand-alone SCENES or one-shots. This is not a chronological story and there is no purposeful continuity. It is just a collection of moments. Some will reflect random ideas or potentially fun, humorous, heavy scenes to write with these characters. Others will expand on a scene from an episode (past or present) or recast the way a scene went while imaging it in this AU. Others will take a kernel from an episode and use it as inspiration for how these characters might've interacted with it going forward. Wherever possible, a year, season number or episode name will be provided to give some context of the general timeframe of the scene — to provide some guidance on where the characters are at mentally/emotionally and the ages of the children.**

TIMEFRAME: Set in early-2020, or S21E16 entitled Enternal Relief from the Pain.

"Benji, would you slow down," Olivia called at him as he dashed up the subway station stairs.

For all the times she thought she was making her own progress in getting back into some definition of 'fit' for over-50, moments crept up on her that were still a reminder of her age.

They were also these little wake-up calls of how quickly moving from fieldwork to a supervisory desk job just caught up to you too. The weight gain and change in stamina and fitness became undeniable within about a year of starting to climb the ranks. By the time her fiftieth birthday came around she knew it was really catching up with her.

It was frustrating when changes in fitness and abilities showed their selves at work – when she did go out in the field – and couldn't perform the way she used to. Couldn't give chase in the same way. Couldn't take down a suspect in quite the same way. Or kick down a door. There were times she felt like that looked poorly on her as a cop. But it was more that she also worried that her fitness – and age - put her officers and the public in danger. And, more and more frequently she was starting to realize there would be a point – in the not too distant future – where she wouldn't go in the field anymore. And when she did – it would be to do what her job description said: supervise.

And maybe that was for the best. But it was still a reality that she struggled to get her head around. A change in the long list of changes her heart, mind and body had had to deal with over the past five to seven years. Changes in the job and the role and her responsibilities. Changes in the job and the role and her responsibilities at home too.

And it was sometimes the home – and family – aspect of it all that made the changes of age and fitness that much more frustrating. On a very different level.

Olivia knew she was an 'older' parent. Maybe not glaringly – at least not with Benji. But she still often felt like she was the oldest mom in the room and in the bleachers. So far she was glaringly older than all her kids teachers. And even their principals. And she sometimes felt like that – combined with her job – made her intimidating to other parents, and maybe even the school staff. And she again worried that that had played a part in Benji's challenges in making and establishing friendships. Though, she also rationally knew that the problems there ran more deeply than personality clashes and parenting differences and life experiences and generational gaps between her and the 30-something and 40-something parents. And even the handful of 20-something parents that Emmy's class was made up of.

And there was the reality that there were times where Olivia just didn't feel like she could keep up with some of the energy and enthusiasm these Millennial parents showed in creating these Pinterest-worthy childhoods for their children and relating every move made by the school and enrolling their kids in every activity offered in the burough. And in a whole lot of other ways – she absolutely had no interest in trying to keep up with any of that. And there had been a period when she first had Benji where she had tried. And it hadn't been good for either of them. They weren't those kinds of people. They weren't that kind of family.

But she was still a mom who wanted to play with her kids – to keep up with them. Chasing after them in the park. Or whipping around the skating rink the way they wanted. Or shooting hoops with Benji. Or them endlessly asking to go to the climbing gym or the ninja/tumbling gym or the pool. The long bike rides and the pump bike park. Scooters at the skatepark. And the long strolls and park time on weekends that sometimes kept them out of the house so long – and so far away – that they didn't end up wandering home until the sun was setting on the city and their kids were so tired they wanted to be carried. But carrying Emmy home rather than getting a car wasn't easy any more. Managing the weight of a six-year-old just didn't seem as easy anymore as it had when Benji was that age. Or the city blocks in Manhattan were just shorter. Or Emmy was just heavier – which she was …

But it was really moments like this that smacked age and fitness into her face even more. Simple things. Tromping up subway station stairs. Something she'd done her entire life. Something that lately Benji seemed to be the one who lagged on with his aching lupus knees. And, yet that morning it was her who felt her knees protesting a little with each step – and her lungs protesting a bit more.

Getting winded walking up a flight of subway stairs? That was not a good sign. Maybe she'd tell herself she was getting a touch of a chest cold. Though, between all the coronavirus fears and having a chronically ill child at home – that wasn't exactly the best illusion to create for herself either.

Olivia sighed a little again as she was almost to the top and her phone had managed to get enough of its signal back that it was already vibrating in her coat pocket. She could already tell it was going to be that kind of day. Unrelenting.

She pulled out the phone and gave the screen a look. It was only Brian. She briefly contemplated not answering it. But did …

"Hi …," she allowed. Very flatly, conveying she wanted to keep this as brief as possible. Whatever this was.

"Morning, Sunshine …," he intoned into her ear. There was sarcasm to it, so he'd clearly caught her tone. "Everything OK?"

She exhaled a bit and tried to suppress her annoyance. It wasn't his fault he was up before the crack of dawn and out of the house that morning. Or it was. But it wasn't. It was the job.

"Still working at getting the kids to school," she muttered at him.

When the decision had been made to adopt Emmy, there'd definitely been an awareness of the age gap between her and Benji. But somehow she'd convinced herself that the four years and change wasn't really that much in the grand scheme of things. And when thinking about that gap the thought process had more revolved around when the kids would be finishing high school and when they'd be starting or finishing university, if they choose that route. It'd been about how old she'd be – when Emmy was reaching that point. It was about mandatory retirement age and planning her retirement and thinking about if and how to help finance and usher two kids into adulthood (that was going to have to set in a whole lot sooner than it had with Jack).

She really hadn't thought about these years they were in now. The ones where one kids was at one school and the other kid was at another. Where Emmy was still too little and flighty for them to be letting walk to school on her own even though the school was all of four blocks from their house. Where Benji might be getting old enough to start letting him get to school on his own – but they weren't quite there yet. These years when the age gap between the kids did feel bigger and more gaping. When they were dealing with a little kid and a tween. And the realization started to set in that that gap might start to seem bigger and bigger over the next many years to come. And that it might not start to seem smaller again until those years that Olivia had thought about – when both the kids were in their 20s, which seemed so far away and so frighteningly close to sneaking up on them too. When both her kids weren't really kids anymore. But for now she knew there was going to be this mix of toys and videogames and electronic devices and picture books and novels and kiddie birthday parties intermixed with insistence on just wanting to 'hang out' or 'chill' with friends. With the playroom turning back into a bedroom as puberty hit and the want and need for privacy between a brother and sister became apparent again. And excitement about Friday Family Date Night and Sunday Family Fun-Day turned into just wanting to be left alone or wanting to do their own thing or wanting to go to a friends house.

But Olivia was learning more and more – almost weekly – that there were a lot of things you just don't think about when you're thinking about becoming a parent. That things you couldn't possibly come up with creep up on you. That you just don't really know what to expect or how to prepare until you have that living, breathing human being with their own personality quirks and wants and needs and triggers right there in front of you. And every day there's some slightly different challenge for you all to figure out how to navigate. And you just had to do the best you could. Because you will never, ever be able to anticipate everything.

And in so many ways she was glad to be navigating some of parenthood – with these child of hers – in her 40s and 50s, not her 20s and 30s. Because even though she very much knew she would've figured a way to work through it with the kids – for the kids, she wasn't sure she would've been ready for it quite the way she was now. She would've lost or changed more of herself than maybe she was even entirely able to appreciate at this point. She probably wouldn't be who she was or where she was in her life and career. And she just didn't think she would've quite had the kind of life experience these kids of hers needed from her. Because even in her 50s now she had her moments where being a mom tested her a bit more than she'd like to admit.

"OK," Brian allowed in her ear. "I just wanted to touch base."

"OK," she allowed – not even trying to disguise her annoyance that he was clearly checking in on her, perhaps more than the kids.

"Did you see Em's permission slip and the cash? I left it on the counter for you guys," he said.

Olivia rolled her eyes a bit. "Yes," she said.

"OK," Brian said and paused. "I just wanted to make sure. I dinged you. But hadn't heard back."

"I saw the text," Olivia said.

"OK," he allowed again and it hung there. She could tell he was weighing to ask what she knew he also wanted to ask.

"His science exploration log book is in his bag," she provided.

"OK," he said. There was some relief there.

Olivia wasn't sure to take it was a compliment to their relationship that she knew what Brian was thinking and was able to answer him without him asking. Or it was more a reflection of their parenting – or her parenting? – or their division of duties?

Brian was often the one who did the 'main level' of the house wrangling in the morning. She was the one who got them up and made sure they were dressed in something that could actually be worn outside the house and had their faces washed and hair brushed. But after they were downstairs – it was Brian who refereed their weekday breakfast and made sure they got everything in their bags. And more days than not, it was Brian who made sure Benji got to school by morning bells – because she had farther to get into work and he had the take-come vehicle when he wanted it to get back and forth across the bridge. Though, a lot of days when it wasn't hovering at zero or there was snow on the ground, Brian still either rode his bike or two the subway too. She didn't blame him. A lot of days that was still the faster option.

"Can you tell him for me that I know he's totally got that math test of his. He's going to be fine …"

"I will," she allowed a quite smile and glanced around the area at the top of the stairs trying to spot where Benji had gotten to when he'd raced up to the sidewalk ahead of her.

Another reason that they weren't quite ready to cross the threshold into letting Benji manage to get to school on his own yet: the closest stop was the hub right at the Atlantic Avenue stop. Beyond there being too many trains all coming through one place, it was just hubbub of activity. Commuters off to work. High school students in the building next to Benji's middle school. Middle school kids in the higher grades. Younger kids and their parents. Street venders and fast food and Starbucks and dollar slice shops all calling at the kids as much as the adults to spend money they shouldn't be spending – and wandering farther away from their final destination than they should. The giant Target, Best Buy and Barclay's Centre barely down the street and Atlantic Station Terminal being right there also didn't help. There were lots of opportunities for kids to go astray.

With Benji's previous troubles with bullying in grade school, getting him to go to school in the morning was challenging enough. They were just starting to get over the hump where he put up a protest near every day. Where he was starting to show some excitement about school and his teachers and classes and classmates and what he was studying and learning and activities he was getting to participate in. She didn't want to risk him getting off track – lured away by trying to fit in with other kids who decided to take some detours on the way to school. He missed enough school as it was with his medical appointments and days where his lupus was acting up. And letting him manage to walk just down the street from the middle school to the high school for his after-school LEAP programming was what had created the window of opportunity for his so-called 'friend' to introduce him to pornography.

Olivia wasn't quite ready to open up a 20-30 minute window of alone time for her sickly, slightly socially delayed, and too small for his age 11-year-old who so desperately just wanted to fit in and have friends to walk to school in the morning on his own, or navigate the subways either. He'd have to transfer trains and it would take him almost as long as it would to just walk. But she also knew that he was getting to the stage he wanted more independence – and that they needed to be teaching him the skills to be that way in all aspects of his life.

She knew that by about eleven and twelve years old both her and Brian had at least had the run of their neighborhoods – if not farther afield (beknownsted and unbeknownsted to their mothers). But their situations growing up were different than what their kids had. And it was a different time. And a very different city. And a different kind of humanity that roamed its streets. And kids and technology. And parents – not cops who had an expertise, and personal experience, in sex crimes and all the horrific things that can happen when you take your eyes off your children or loosen the reins a little too much.

It was a struggle in parenting that her and Brian were both having to come to terms with. How not to raise children traumatized by their own trauma. To teach them well and responsibly so they were smart, strong, independent adults. But it was hard given the things they knew and the things they'd both been through.

"I'm likely goin' to be late tonight," Brian said.

Olivia exhaled a bit as she continued to eye the area for her son amidst the chaos and movement. She hoped he hadn't continued up the street to his school when she'd ordered him to slow down. But she finally spotted him leaning against a wall, slightly obscured by a group of teenagers vaping. And she sighed a little at that too. More things he didn't need to be exposed to. Quite literally in this case. Her son – and his inflamed lungs – didn't need to be breathing in that crap. Or anything else kids that age decided they were going to get into – or anything that the things they were getting into were laced with (beknownsted or unbeknownsted to them).

"How late?" she asked, gesturing at Benji to get back into step with her. But his eyes were entirely glued on the bad example the teens were setting.

"Don't know," Brian said. "Goin' guess likely seven or eight."

She sighed at that again. Pursing out some more annoyance.

"What?" he asked.

"Well, there's a chance I'm going to be late too, Brian," she put back to him. "I told you that. I have to go to that luncheon and conference this afternoon for the case we were talking about. If something comes out of that – I'm going to be late."

"At least you aren't sitting in a phony plumbing van freezing your nuts off," he said.

She exhaled more annoyance at that. Like she hadn't done her share of those kinds of stakeouts over the years. And like getting a 'free lunch' that afternoon made the kind of case they were dealing with any easier.

"We've already asked your mom to watch the kids twice this week," was what she put to him instead – coming to a bit of a stop and giving Benji some of the Evil Eye she wished Brian could see. But her little boy still seemed oblivious to it for the moment.

"She doesn't mind," Brian said.

"Brian," she sighed harder. His mom did and didn't mind. In the very least it wasn't entirely fair to her to request as much of her as they did some weeks – especially this last minute. Janet had a life – and made plans – too. And, she would drop them and change everything if Brian called her and asked her to do after-school and dinner duty with the kids. That wasn't fair.

"So Cragen," he suggested.

Olivia rubbed at her eyebrow – and then abruptly stopped. All this coronavirus panic and hygiene talk had definitely alerted her to just how much she touched her face – and just how stupid that was in cold and flu season.

"Eileen's granddaughters are on spring break this week," she said.

"So?"

Olivia rolled her eyes at that – like Benji and Emily should always take precedence in the grandkid hierarchy. Or with that set of grandkids being in private school there must be enough money in the family that they could access services and programming for the full week without trying to recruit the grandparents for a few days help.

"I'll call John," she muttered. "If he feels up to it, I'll ask him. And if not … I'll figure it out."

"Jack or Renee," Brian said.

She just sighed again and shrugged – even though she knew he couldn't see it. "I need to get Benji to school, Bri. I'll see you tonight."

"'Kay. Love you …"

"You too," she managed. But she wasn't sure she felt very warm and fuzzy about it in that moment. Though, she was starting to accept that that was marriage. It was making the choice to be 'in love' with that person every day. And some days the level of expression and depth of that love was just shown in different ways.

Olivia stared Benji's way again but he was still watching the teenagers rather indiscreetly. But at least the teens weren't showing the least bit of interest in him or any of the other adults – including the safety officers positioned at the busy crossroads.

"Benj," she called at him and he finally met her eyes. "Hey, c'mon. Let's go," she said with a move along gesture.

He trotted over to her and got back into step with her, but still gave a glance back over his shoulder. She glanced down a him and his movement and then glance back at the teens again too. And she reached to find his hand – and grip it. Tightly. But his hand stayed loose in her grip.

"Dad wished you luck on your math test," she said.

He didn't react to that comment. "Those kids were vaping," he said instead.

"Ah, yea, they were," she agreed.

"Isn't it kinda against the law for kids to vape?" Benji asked.

She gave him another look. "Umm … it's a illegal for kids to buy tobacco products," she said.

Benji squinted at her. "So they musta bought 'em. Right? So aren't you gonna do something?"

"Umm …," she gave another glance over her shoulder. "Well, Benj, there's the Community Safety officers right there. So I think if they feel an action needs to be taken, we'll just let them deal with it. We're running a little late this morning. C'mon," she said again and picked up their pace by about half a step.

Benji easily caught up and kept the pace. "Taylor's brother got suspended for vaping the other day."

Olivia looked down at him, processing that. Taylor? That kid again? He was bad news. She wasn't sure she even wanted her child to be friends with this kid anymore. Actually, she was reaching the point she was pretty near the point she didn't want her child near her kid anymore. Especially with the way the parents were avoiding having a conversation about it. Olivia had been passing it off as an intimidation factor — that they were scared of her age or the knowledge they were cops or what kind of cases her and Brian worked. But maybe it was more about morals and lifestyle choices.

"You didn't tell me that," she said.

Benji just shrugged. "Yea. For a week. Him and three other boys in the school bathroom. Taylor says he's getting a ticket too. Like a fine. So I guess they were breaking the law …?"

"Ah, yea …," Olivia allowed. "You can't vape or smoke in schools, Benj."

He made a sound of acknowledgement like that had answered all his questions. But she was only at the beginning of hers.

"What grade is Taylor's brother in?" she asked.

"Eight," Benji said.

"Eighth grade," Olivia mouthed back quietly. It wasn't surprising. At all. It was more that it was a reminder of just how much things changed in middle school. The minefield you start to have to navigate as parents in a whole new way.

"Yea," Benji said. "Those kids back there. Theirs smelled like mint. But Taylor says his brother's favorite is mango. And there's even one that tastes like cotton candy. Only without all the sugar. Just the vapor."

Olivia gapped briefly at that and looked down at her son. "Does Taylor vape?"

Benji's eyes sort of betrayed him even though the only answer she got as a shrug.

Olivia pulled up on their joint hands – hauling him to a stop and stared firmly down at him.

"Benji, have you tried it?"

He huffed a bit at her and tried to pull his hand away. "Mom, c'mon," he groaned.

But she stooped a bit more to get his eyes. "Benji," she really stressed his name – to the point she bordered on pulling out the full 'Benjamin'. "Vaping, cigarettes, hookahs—"

He squinted at her with a touch of anger showing in that scrunched up face of his. "Hookahs? I don't even know what that is."

"Any tobacco products, Benji," she stressed. "This is important. You know how fragile your lungs are."

"I know," he pressed at her.

"So even trying any of those products – even being around kids who are using them too much – could really, really hurt your lungs. It could make the inflammation so much worse. The lupus so much worse. We might end up in the hospital again."

"I know, Mom," he pressed and tugged his mitted hand out of hers, giving her a disapproving look.

"So, Benj, tell me you know never, ever to get involved with what those kids back there or what Taylor and his brother are getting into …" she said.

He huffed at her. "I know," he said flatly and then gestured up the block with his mitten. "You can watch from here," he told her. "I can go the rest of the way myself."

And she squinted at him. "Doesn't Dad walk you to the gates?"

He sighed at her. "Yea, but Dad doesn't get all Dad-like on me in front of everyone," he said with some side-eye glances around parents and kids and teens all headed down the block to the middle school and high school.

She sighed a little at herself. She hadn't wanted to embarrass him. And she didn't want to embarrass him more. So she sucked in the mothering and parenting that was still threatening to spill out and gave him a little nod.

"OK," she acknowledged with a shrug. "Have a good day."

"Yea," Benji acknowledged and started his quick little loop-sided gait that always betrayed to her mother's eye just how much the lupus was bothering his knee on a given day.

But she sucked in commentary on that too. Though, she knew as soon as he got through the gates she'd be calling the nursing station to ask them to please give her son an NSAID to help him get through the day. Just like she was weighing if she should be calling his rheumatologist and requesting that a chest xray be added to his monthly lab requisition that month – just in case.

As Benji got to the front gates of the school, he paused and gazed back up the block. Olivia held up her hand in a small wave – telling herself that she didn't even always get a good-bye hug in the morning anymore as they all herded out the door, so she shouldn't feel the sting of not getting one in the street that day. And, though, she could tell Benji had spotted her and stared at her – seen her wave – he didn't return it. He popped in through the gates and into the schoolyard, disappearing from her sight.

And Olivia knew that it was going to be very, very hard to stand back and just watch him go through the coming years of growing up.

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**I think the next chapter will likely be a Benji/Brian conversation about some of the stuff from the previous scenes. I think it might be more effective than Benji/Liv or Liv/Lindstrom or Brian/Lindstrom or Liv/Brian/Lindstrom. **

**I am still deciding if the Tucker scene will be Brian/Tucker or Tucker/Liv. I have ideas of how to do it both ways and I'm undecided which makes the most sense or would be the most impactful. **

**I have an idea for a Liv/Amanda scene that would include her kids and Liv kids, as well as the Frankie introduction.**

**I still really want to get to the Liv/Taylor's mom scene and the Liv/Brian/Simon scene.**

**Feedback, reviews, comments, and ideas/suggestions for scenes are always very much appreciated. **


	12. Deafening

**Title: Beauty in the Mundane Moments**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: A series of stand-alone, non-chronological ONE-SHOTS set in Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans, A Step At A Time, The Night Before AU. Olivia Benson navigates the job, parenthood and marriage while trying to find the difficult work-life-family balance that comes with being a cop.**

**PLEASE NOTE: These chapters are stand-alone SCENES or one-shots. This is not a chronological story and there is no purposeful continuity. It is just a collection of moments. Some will reflect random ideas or potentially fun, humorous, heavy scenes to write with these characters. Others will expand on a scene from an episode (past or present) or recast the way a scene went while imaging it in this AU. Others will take a kernel from an episode and use it as inspiration for how these characters might've interacted with it going forward. Wherever possible, a year, season number or episode name will be provided to give some context of the general timeframe of the scene — to provide some guidance on where the characters are at mentally/emotionally and the ages of the children.**

TIMEFRAME: Set in March 2020

Brian spread his arms, leaning against the kitchen island's counter, head hanging while he considered Liv's argument and attempted to process some kind of rebuttal that wasn't worth making. He didn't have any kind of argument to any of this.

"Well, what did his doctor say?" he finally managed.

She sighed. She had reason too. They'd gone over this multiple times. Like multiple. They'd both been on the phone to the doc multiple times in the like past two weeks. They'd grilled him at their appointment the previous month. Grilled the nurses and the techs when Ben had been in for his lab work and IVs. Not that they'd been able to tell him much of anything. Instead they'd just been watching the news and the WHO reports and the CDC reports with an increasing sense of dread – their stress and anxiety continuing to grow, reaching a near boil point now.

Liv pursed out her exhaustion and frustration in their effort to mitigate this shit. To manage it. As cops. Parents. Adults. Human beings.

"The same thing he keeps telling us," she said and stared off out the glass of their door into their small back lot that Ben had retreated into to get the hell away from them.

He was out of sight. But they couldn't hear his basketball beating against the paving stones in their cramped little lot, though. It rebounding off the backboard. The scrape of his hockey stick on cement or the bang of a hard plastic ball hitting the brick wall one the one side of their lot where a chalk net had been drawn only to ricocheting off with such force it bounce back right to smack against the wall on the opposite side of the lot. Brian suspected that Ben might've darted down the steps and rapped on Johnny's door in an effort to really get some reprieve from Mom and Dad. That Munch – and his ranting about how all this had been years in the making (that really didn't seem anything like conspiracy anymore at all. Not that much of anything did in an America governed by Trump. They lived in some sort of fucked up Dystopian Reality that was likely vindicating Johnny on so many levels. He was likely almost fucking glad he was living to see it. Thankfully he almost kept his venting and ranting and political mumbo-jumbo prophetizing to a minimum when the kiddos were around. He saved that for him and Liv.

Even then the most John said about a lot of it was that he'd 'had a good run'. Like he just knew this was the end of him. And if all the news reports and CDC and WHO reports were right – it could well be. Like Brian wasn't struggling enough with the reality that he knew John wasn't likely going to see 2020 to the end. Now it felt like it might be some kind of miracle if they got John through the next three months. Through fucking COVID-19.

And apparently Ben had decided getting out of their house and stealing out back and likely down to his Unkie Munchie's place was still the way, way, way fucking better option. Because apparently him and Liv weren't doing so great at hiding just how high this fucking coronavirus shit was upping their own anxiety – about him and his health and safety and mortality. Or Johnny's either.

Because apparently they weren't doing so great at hiding just how high this fucking coronavirus shit was upping their own anxiety – about him and his health and safety and mortality.

"That lupus compromises the immune system. That that puts him in the at-risk population – but that overseas, generally, children seem to be fairing better than the elderly. That we probably have to be more worried about John. But that we should trust our gut, be cautious and use our discretion."

"So he didn't say we should pull him out of school?" Brian put back to her.

She sighed harder at him and hung her head at him in a tilted glare that likely told him they'd been together far too long. It was way too much of a glimpse of just the kind of looks he gave her. Almost more so than when the kids gave him the head tilt and he knew where they'd picked it up.

"Brian, the whole city is shutting down. Private schools are already shutdown. Teachers are crying out for the city to do the right thing and cancel classes – to keep kids home. Other parents are already keeping their kids home."

He exhaled hard too and hung his head again and stared at the counter. "I just don't want to freak him out more than he's already freaking out, Liv. Did you see his hands? He's washing them raw."

"And that's just more reason to not have him out in public spaces, Brian. With open sores? Touching surfaces that who knows the last time they've been disinfected?"

"And, Liv, what difference is it going to make if we're both still fucking—"

She hushed him. And gave him a look. Brian gave another sigh and glanced over his shoulder to check on Em. But she'd completely missed his F-bomb. She was absolutely absorbed in the unexpected videogame time she'd been handed that afternoon while him and Liv hashed this out. Ducky looked like about in settled into complete zombie mode. Didn't bode well for what was to come – pandemic or not.

"It's not going to make a difference," he put back to Liv as he turned back to her, "when we're both still going out into … whatever this is turning into."

"It's a pandemic, Bri," she pressed at him. "It's a national crisis – that our so-called president isn't reacting too. That our mayor and governor and police commissioner are dragging their asses to avoid a complete economic crash while struggling to get the public to wrap their heads around the necessity of all this in a way that doesn't cause complete panic about the potential health catastrophe we're on the brink of."

"That sounded a little panicked," Brian said.

"I am not panicked," Liv spat just a little. "I am at a complete loss at what we should be doing here, Brian."

He shook his head and stared at that counter. "I don't know, Liv. I think we just treat it like 9/11—"

"Brian, as much as I agree that I feel like I am watching whole sections of this city – country – crumble without a whole lot of information available to me, and as much as the cop in me wants to be boots to the ground – I am not, we are not, the people we were in 2001. And we aren't a cop family where just one of us is a First Responder or a Front Line worker. We have children, Bri. We have a chronically-ill child. We have a … " she gestured at the floor and the garden unit. "An elderly family member who has cancer and is undergoing treatment. You're likely technically high-risk too, Brian, if you'd call your cardiologist."

"I'm fine," he muttered.

"You're on heart medication," she pressed but there was a weakness to it. "You haven't been in for your annual tests yet. You've been complaining about shortness of breath."

"Because it's fucking allergy season in New York, Liv," he said. "And my chronically-ill kid has been running my 48-year-old ass off its ass with basketball and floor hockey all winter and now my six-year-old has me in the dirt and pollen of every fucking park in Brooklyn."

She sighed at him. "Well, all that's going to stop. We're doing this … self-quarantine and social distancing."

"And how exactly is that going to work?" he nodded at her. "Because I haven't heard you say you aren't going to work."

Liv took a slow, deep breath and stared at him. He stared right back.

"Bri, I'm still NYPD. I'm still going to be an essential service. I don't see them letting the specialized units move into work from home. I think it's more likely they'll reassign most of us."

"You're C.O.," he put to her. "Same as weekends, holidays. You can play point from here. We've got the firewall, secure network, VPN already setup for you."

She exhaled. "You know they'll take me to task if I start looking for 'special' treatment. It took me fifteen years to make rank, Brian."

He shook his head at her. "It took you fifteen years to take the lieutenant's exam. You don't know that you wouldn't have climbed the ladder sooner."

She sighed at him. "Dodds pulled strings to get me Captain," Liv said. "You know that. You know we need that extra salary right now. The benefits in the Captains' Beneficiary. We talked about this. I've barely held the rank three months. They've still got eyes on me. I've taken so much time this year with Benji's lupus and appointments."

"Yea," Brian nodded. "And so you go out there – in the field."

"The office. The precinct," she argued.

"It doesn't matter, Olivia. You're still going to be in contact with … what fifty, a hundred cops every day. Lawyers. Perps. And what if them exposes you to COVID? What happens then? You don't come home? The kids don't get their mom for … what? Fourteen days? Or … what three months? Eighteen months? Or worse - what if you don't even know you've been exposed and you bring it into this house and you expose Ben or John to it? They get sick. How is that going to make you feel? What are you going to do to yourself if that happens?"

The sadness that painted across her whole face pained him almost as much as he could tell that it pained her. She'd thought about all that. He could tell that too. And she didn't know who to deal with any of that either. There wasn't an answer or solution she'd come to about that either. She hadn't even formulated an argument about how she was going to approach it yet.

"There's going to be a spike in domestic violence during this," Liv said. "That usually correlates to a spike in rapes."

"Not necessarily reported ones and not necessarily in Manhattan," Brian said.

She exhaled. "I have a job to do, Brian."

"Yea, Liv. And I've got a job to do too."

"The courts are closing, Brian," she nearly yelled at him. "Beyond essential services. As grotesque the crimes your cases deal with, they are not going to be classified as demanding the essential services of the courts."

"I'm still on the witness list of trials that have already started, and until I get told those trials have been held over until all this blows over, I can't exactly not show up," he pressed with his own touch of anger.

"But I'm pretty damn-well sure you can manage to do you job from home there after," she spat back.

He looked at her. And then nodded. "OK, Liv. Sure, fine. You're right. But, not because of why you think. Because, you know what? Investigator. Supervisor. I can figure it out, make arrangements to do it from home. Because I've got another job: Dad. And so do you: Mom. And you're right. We don't have the luxury of them both being perfectly healthy kids and if our family gets exposed we'll likely just have two weeks of a really shitty flu. So – if we're pulling him out of school and quarantining and not doing this half-assed – you have got to figure out how you're not doing it half-assed either. You're usually a pretty fucking spectacular Mom to them. And you are going to fucking hate yourself if you make choices right now about the job – and the city – that end up costing them big time."

Brian moved away from the counter and the devastated look she was giving him. He shrugged a little.

"We can talk about it more if you want. Talk. About you. Me. Ben. Em. That's sorted – the way you wanted," he said and gestured at the backdoor. "I'm going to check on him. It's way too quiet out there."

And she'd gotten way too quiet in there too. Even with Ducky's videogame going on in the background and the clattering of the pot trying to boil over on the stove. It was fucking deafening. Terrifying so. So much fucking noise and none of it contained any kind of answers that made any kind of sense.


	13. Episodes

**Title: Best Laid Plans**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: Olivia Benson and Brian Cassidy continue to work at regrouping from the trauma and challenges of their year by taking some time away from New York City. They take their kids on a family vacation to visit Cragen and Eileen in Florida. The story is set in the Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home and Facing Forward AU.**

Somehow when they'd come out of the Animal Actors show they'd apparently left California – and the streets of Hollywood – and landed back in Universal's version of New York City. They'd found themselves in a movie magic attempt at Central Park. And, really, if they ever did use the theme park space as a working set to shoot a commercial or a scene in some TV show, it was likely workable. But the kids were grossly unimpressed.

"This does not look like Central Park," Benji stressed for them repeatedly while standing on a rock that definitely wasn't as big as some of the elephant rocks that the kids could spend hours scurrying around on their imaginary adventures. But it definitely was also sculpted and textured to give it a look that was reflective of the rocks back in their hometown.

The keywords there, though, were 'sculpted' and 'textured' and even their six-year-old had kind of clued into that. Emmy had definitely managed to find a twig that was real and was carrying – and thrashing it around with her like it was some kind of newfound play thing because near every part of nature was to their child. But the toy had turned into a scientific chisel when they'd stopped in the shade to look across the 'lake' at what Olivia was distinguishing as likely San Fransisco and London. It was an interesting clash of architecture. And definitely not what you saw when you looked across the Revisor in the real Central Park – or any other water formation there. Near rock formations or otherwise. Emmy was poking at the rocks with the stick.

"Are des real, Mommy?" she demanded rather skeptically, followed by, "I think they fake."

"Maybe," Olivia conceded. She definitely wasn't going to argue that point. And if she did it was likely that Benji and Emily would mount some sort of science experiment or paleontological, geological dig right there in the theme park. She thought she should try to get them to save that show for when they got over to the Jurassic Park land, which was another area that she was sure most families likely spent maybe an hour or two in but that her kids would easily put the better part of a day into. But at least it wouldn't be watching them chisel at a fake rock with twigs in a fake park in a theme park that they were paying upwards of a $100 per person per day for the pleasure of being there.

Brian, though, apparently didn't have a problem with that use of their money. And he'd just nudged her, mumbled something about finding something to eat, and wandered away leaving her to watch … whatever it was these little creatures they were raising were doing. Sometimes she was in awe of them. And sometimes she was just dumbfounded by them. They were both such unique individuals. So uniquely them.

Olivia didn't think the kids even noticed Brian was gone. They were absorbed. Not only were they busy determining if the rock was real – but Emmy had spotted bugs. And then a gecko. And then they were both transfixed. And nearly terrorizing the poor thing. She'd had to give them some firm instruction to just look and not touch. And then clarify that included not poking it with the fucking twig. But the lizard must've been pretty resilient to curious tourists. It seemed mostly undisturbed and continued basking on the warm concrete while Benji and Emmy stared and chattered squatted down next to it.

So Olivia had just found a bench in the shade and sat playing supervisor. The benches in the little, quiet park space were actually a pretty good facsimile of the ones in NYC Parks. So were the lamp posts. And the signage. Even if the space didn't capture the experience of the city at all.

Brian reappeared with a bucket of popcorn and a strawberry-lemon slush for them to share and you'd think their kids had never seen either. At least they hadn't likely seen anything in quite those serving sizes.

"Can get the popcorn refilled for two bucks the rest of our stay," Brian said, while he claimed a handful. He was smart to take a handful at once the way the kids were diving in and sucking down the slush.

"Hey," Olivia said, giving Benji's shoulder a little shake as his lips puckered with the drink. "Slow down. You're going to get brain freeze."

"Too late," he muttered and handed the drink off to his sister who went at the drink with just as much vigor, completely undeterred by the way Benji was now holding at his temples and groaning a little.

Olivia rolled her eyes, giving her head a shared shake with Brian.

But that was their kids. There were moments she really, really worried she – they – maybe spoiled them. There were other moments that she worried they were too strict or too uptight or too overprotective.

And then they had little moments like this. They needed like moments like this. Where a big bucket of theme park popcorn was a thrill and a treat. Where they still knew how to share and didn't fuss about having to use the same straw as their sibling. Where they hadn't had a slushie enough they didn't know how to avoid a brain freeze. Where they were still excited and appreciative. And little. And fun. And silly. Where her and Brian were able to just let them be kids. To let them be their weird little, observant selves – digging at fake rocks and staring at geckos in a makeshift park at a $100 a day theme park while the other families around them hustled to London and through to Diagon Alley and into a Wizarding World of Harry Potter. And they sat on a bench and shared a treat as a family in a moment that as wasn't so unlike any other day-off her and Brian might have with their kids back home.

Emmy first wedged between her and Brian on the bench and then crawled into her Daddy's lap. It was mid-afternoon at that point and she was finally starting to show some fleeting glimpses that she might be ready to slow down at least a bit. Or she just wanted better access to the popcorn. Though, in that moment, she seemed content to have the slushie to herself. Her head resting against Brian's chest and his chin on her head while she sucked at the straw in much slower gulps than Benji's glug.

Olivia smiled a little at the scene. Brian caught it.

"What?"

She shook her head and just gestured at their little girl. The kids grow up – but in some ways they don't. You still got glimpses of the past. Maybe that's why seeing them get bigger got harder. Olivia could see again their Little Duck against her Daddy's chest with her bottle while Brian worked at lulling her to sleep back in those early months right then.

Benji moved to sit down on the bench next to her and she nudged over a bit – moving the popcorn bucket to her lap to make sure there was enough space. He was happy with that arrangement. He cuddled into her side and buried his hand into the bucket, munching away.

And they all just sat and rested and snacked, gazing at the water and the various cityscapes around them for a bit. It'd only been then in their apparent slow down that Benji had actually seemingly looked around and realized the Transformer ride was insight.

"Dad, I think that's Transformers," he blurted out suddenly. So suddenly it'd startled Olivia a little and she'd nearly toppled the little they had left of the popcorn. And the little boy's whole arm pointed urgently. "LOOK! I think that's Optimus! On the building! RIGHT THERE!"

Brian leaned forward with Emmy in his lap a bit and looked around the bit of foliage in the 'park'. "Could be," he acknowledged and gave Olivia a nudge. "Where'd the map Magellan."

She rolled her eyes at him but moved to dig the crumpled paper out of her capri's pocket. She'd barely retrieved it before Benji had snatched it away from her and set to checking out the situation for himself.

"Manners," she pressed firmly into the side of his cap. But he was absorbed and attempting to orient himself on the colorful and wordy paper.

Benji had a love-hate relationship with maps. He seemed fascinated with them. He'd taken an interest in geography. He liked that maps were art and science combined. Lines and colors and information – without too many words. But he'd also expressed that maps made him dizzy. It wasn't something that her or Brian had quite understood what he meant. But they had been told that it was a common sensation with dyslexia. Still, their son much preferred gathering and extrapolating information from maps than he did from any other kind of dense document. He could figure out how to navigate them – if given proper time.

"Mama," he murmured thoughtful, starring at the sheet. "Check your phone. See if it says the ride times."

She allowed her eyes another little roll but retrieved her phone. She didn't really need to. Brian already had his out.

"It's forty minutes," he told her, swiping through the app.

She gaped at him a bit. "For Transformers?"

"People live Transformers, Liv," he said. "Everyone but you."

She rolled her eyes harder. "Do our Express Passes work on that ride?" she asked. Actually – she prayed.

He made a listening sound. "I think so," he muttered, still staring at his phone. That didn't sound sure.

"Does it say how long that wait is?"

He shook his head. "Nah. We'll have to walk over," he said and gave Emmy a bit of a shake. "We gonna do this?"

"JAH!" she cheered. Apparently those fleeting moments of her almost looking like she might be ready for a nap were just that – fleeting. "LET'S DOOOOO DIS!"

"Big Man?" Brian leaned over to look at Benji again. "You up to saving the All-Spark, bud?"

And Benji gave him a big smile and a firm nod.

"Think Mom is?"

Benji shrugged. And Olivia gave him a gentle slap in the chest. It just got a bigger smile out of their son. Him grinning cheekily up at her with that gapped tooth grin of his, full of those missing baby teeth and adult incisors that hadn't come in just yet.

They gathered their things; Brian strapping the souvenir popcorn bucket, that apparently he seriously was planning on keeping and presumably refilling in the next day or two, on the outside of their backpack. And they started their short trek over to where the massive robot was on the roof of the nearby building.

"Is this supposed to still be New York?" Benji asked, swinging her arm hand-in-hand with hers, as Emmy skipped and hopped along with her Dad.

"I think so," Olivia allowed. Though, she'd definitely concede at this point it didn't really look like much of anything beyond any street USA. There was a Mel's Drive-In Diner on the corner. She actually thought that looked kind of fun – if they skipped their reservation. Though, it'd mean nothing to the kids. But, they might've enjoyed looking at the old cars parked out front almost as much as her and Brian. Benji was definitely all-boy when it came to vehicles and had been slowly indoctrinated over the years by her, Jack and Brian – as well as his own interests – about what constituted a classic and quality vehicle. Though, she supposed if it was really supposed to be the diner from American Graffiti the corner was supposed to be back in California. The layout of this park just didn't geographically make sense. The mapping was making her dizzy too.

"Well, it doesn't look like home at all," Benji huffed.

Olivia shrugged a bit. "It's make-believe, Benj. Did it really look like Metropolis yesterday?"

"Yes," he huffed even more offended at her. "From the comics. And it doesn't even make sense if this is New York," Benji informed her and then looked back at Brian. "Right, Dad?"

"Mmm," he allowed. "What you thinking, Ben?"

"Shouldn't it be Chicago. Right?"

"Sounds about right," Bri agreed.

And then they all looked behind them as a siren whirled and a battered, ancient police cruiser with a speaker strapped to the top of it slowly rolled by as Brian pulled Emmy up onto the curb and out of the way. They all stood and stared at the passing car.

"Maybe it is Chicago," Olivia said. Benji squinted at her and she pointed at the car. "Those were the Blues Brothers. It's a movie."

"An old movie," Benji said with a real obnoxious tease and look to him.

She smiled and shook her head at him. "A movie from when Mommy and Daddy where kids."

"So it a reaaaaaaaallllllllllly old movie," Emmy emphasized.

"What's it about?" Benji asked, as they started walking again. "Detectives?"

"No," Olivia said. "It's about two brothers who are musicians and they want to save the orphanage they grew up in. So they're trying to play a bunch of shows to raise money before it has to close its doors."

Benji made a listening sound at that and looked at her. "It sounds kinda good. Can we watch it for Sunday Fun Day Movie one day?"

"Ah, no," Brian interjected. "Not for a long time. It's not a kids movie."

Olivia gave him a look.

"It's R," he put to her. "And I was probably about his age when it came out and don't think I saw it until I was in college."

Olivia just made a listening sound and thought about that. It'd been a long time since she'd seen it. She couldn't think of what might've been in it that earned it an R rating – but she could hazard a guess: drugs, language and sex. And probably smoking and drinking too. Likely vast amounts of misogyny by today's standards too. Though, she also suspected some of the reasoning for the rating likely looked hokey by today's standards and compared to some of the cartoon-action-super-hero violence and innuendo their kids watched and engaged in in videogames and online and just in daily life. No matter how much and how hard they tried to regulate it.

"If it's not for kids why are they here?" Benji asked.

Olivia shrugged again. "Some things in the movie would be family-friendly for everyone, Little Fox. There's lots of singing and dancing. Maybe they have a show here." She cast Brian a look. "That might be fun …" she offered.

But he only gave a little shrug. So she left it for the moment. After they got through today maybe she'd look at the maps and schedules a little bit more and put forward a couple things that she might actually like to see and do at these parks while they were here. She'd really been very focused on getting through these things for the kids up to this point. Just enjoying watching the kids reactions. Enjoying her family.

They rounded the street corner at the big industrial military complex looking building that was housing the Transformer ride and the four of them came to a full stop in their tracks. Olivia was certain that all four of them had their jaws near hit the ground.

An alarm was sounding just as a garage door pulled up and open revealing a massive Optimus Prime. But it was a real – hulking, moving – Optimus Prime. One that didn't just stay inside that doorway. He came walking out toward the gathered people.

"My name is Optimus Prime," the … robot said. Olivia couldn't actually tell if it was a robot or some kind of animatronics puppet or some sort of elaborate custom. What she could tell was that it was incredible – and entirely believable. And that it looked exactly like the character they'd been watching in the movies had come to life and was now towering in front of them – feet taller than even Brian.

"I am an **Autonomous** robotic organism from the planet Cybertron," Optimus said with full gestures and movements. "An Autobot for short."

Olivia didn't know whether to look at Optimus – or Benji … or Brian … or Emmy. But all three of them were just seeping with awe. And that wasn't an easy feat. They looked even more gob smacked than they had with Spiderman. Brian looked like as much of a little boy as their little boy and little girl had the day before.

"Welcome Recruits, you honour us with your alliance. But I must warn all of you, if you find the All-Spark and Megatron is in its possession, only if you can take it from him may we have a chance to save this world."

Optimus promised them all that Bumblebee would help them on their journey. And with that introduce the doors again came up and the bright yellow robot danced and strutted out, striking poses to only the music that his vocal circuits were able to create. If Optimus had looked like everything that Brian had imagined since his childhood – Bumblebee looked like everything that Benji had expected since he was a little boy. Since he'd come home to her and that was the first Transformer he'd found among the toys that had been left behind by Calvin. A toy that had opened a flood gate to Transformers – and Rescue Bots and firetrucks and children and Brian and Jack and Emmy and her whole family and the life she had today.

And her little boy squeezed at her hand even tighter as there stood those two incarnations of so much of what their family had been built on in its infancy. Optimus and Bumblebee. And Brian who knew how to transform those figures from robots to vehicles and back again when she just couldn't figure out how to get the pieces to fit the exact right way.

And they stood there watching them interact with other families as they lined up to get their photos taken before they got in line for the ride. As Optimus offered them assurances and Bumblebee played them motivational soundtracks striking a variety of moods and poses meant to blend with each family and individual who went up and joined them.

It wasn't a question that they got in the queue to have their picture taken. There wasn't even a discussion about it. They just gravitated and got into the line. Inching forward – memorized – as they waited their turn.

"Greetings. How are you today?" Optimus finally called to them and the characters' handlers dressed in beige military fatigues gestured for them to come forward.

Brian nudged Benji and Emmy forward. But Olivia pressed him to move into the photo-op area too. He gave her a look.

"Bri," she nodded. "This is a family photo."

"It's Daddy's birthday," Emmy was already telling Optimus before Brian had a chance to put up any kind of argument about joining the kids. Bumblebee reacted blaring some 'Happy Birthday' music. "You've been his fav-it since he was little like me."

"That is a true honor," Optimus said and actually looked Brian's way. "It is nice to meet you Earthling."

Olivia smiled and nudged him again.

"Yea. Nice to meet you too," Brian muttered.

"These two are rather tiny. But I see their spark is very strong," Optimus said.

Benji was standing in slack-jawed awed, just wide-eyed amazement examining them. He was looking right at Bumblebee and Bumblebee was looking right back. Bits of machinery were whirling on the costume and clips of music and audio were blaring in little blips of excited expression and emotion likely mirroring the ones that Benji couldn't seem to get out.

The staff there with cameras gestured at Olivia – who was the only one who didn't seem in a stupor about the Transformers. And she worked to gather her family and get them to face the camera.

Bumblebee and Optimus huddled around them too. Bumblebee's arm draping almost completely over Benji's body and Optimus' hand first hovering over Brian's head before resting at his shoulder.

"My hand is bigger than your skull, Earthling," he chuckled.

Brian made an amused noise. But Olivia could feel – out of the cop who'd been shoot, stabbed and spent years under cover – some nerves in him at that situation. At the presence of fantasy become reality and it being larger than life.

But it was a fantasy that had been a gateway into giving both of them – all of them – a life. And that made Olivia smile for the camera. They'd all been transformers in their family. They all were.

"Younglings, remember, freedom is a right of all sentient beings," Optimus provided as the photographer gestured their turn was over. "That is your mission – not just today. But today – you must be careful. Megatron is lurking near and we don't want any violence."

They started to move away. But Olivia wasn't sure they'd ever really move away from that moment. Or from Transformers – or their transformation – entirely.

"Roll out!" Optimus called after them as they exited that area.

That familiar call that had occupied so much of Olivia's life in those first months and years that Benji had come home. In that transition and new balance. That transformation where she'd come to have a family. A boy and a husband and a little girl. And a life all of her own.

Roll out.

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**Reviews, comments and feedback are much appreciated.**

**Step at a Time is currently being updated too.**


	14. Truths

**Title: Beauty in the Mundane Moments**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: A series of stand-alone, non-chronological ONE-SHOTS set in Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans, A Step At A Time, The Night Before AU. Olivia Benson navigates the job, parenthood and marriage while trying to find the difficult work-life-family balance that comes with being a cop.**

**PLEASE NOTE: These chapters are stand-alone SCENES or one-shots. This is not a chronological story and there is no purposeful continuity. It is just a collection of moments. Some will reflect random ideas or potentially fun, humorous, heavy scenes to write with these characters. Others will expand on a scene from an episode (past or present) or recast the way a scene went while imaging it in this AU. Others will take a kernel from an episode and use it as inspiration for how these characters might've interacted with it going forward. Wherever possible, a year, season number or episode name will be provided to give some context of the general timeframe of the scene — to provide some guidance on where the characters are at mentally/emotionally and the ages of the children.**

TIMEFRAME: Set in early-2020, likely late February/early March. This would take place after the chapter entitled FATHER FIGURES. The chapters may be reordered to reflect this in the future.

Brian stared at Ben's back out the back door's window for a real long moment before giving Liv a glance where she was watching too. But then he made himself open the door and step out into the air that was more cold than fresh. It hit at his lungs a bit harder than he'd like. Seemed like that happened anymore. Caused a bit of a cough – more like an audible gulp for air. But even the opening and closing of the door and that gag against the forces of Mother Nature didn't earn a glance from Big Man. But wasn't exactly like he expected it would.

So instead he stepped over and stood over him and looked down over the kid's hunched body as he gripped so tightly at a Sharpie that the flushed red flesh from the outdoors temperatures had actually turned white around his knuckles. It was like he was either holding onto that marker for dear life or trying to completely choke the life out of it. That day – week, month – Brian figured it was a bit of both. Just like the dark streaks and jagged lines around the character the kid was sketching out could be a monster just as much as it could be an alien. Just like he was likely screaming as much as it was roaring. Only thing that was undeniable about it was that when he came to this drawing and art stuff – Ben just seeped talent. Him and Liv both knew it. Just like it became more and more apparent with each passing year – each additional request for an art class or comic book class or each beg for the next drawing instrument and material he thought he needed or each additional ask to spend hours in the book or comic store staring at the graphic novels – that none of that talent had come from him or Liv either.

"Think you might be warmer doing that inside, Big Man," Brian told him. Or more like told his back. It only got a shrug. Barely.

Brian had to really suck it at that. Doing this tween shit with his own kid was really trying his fucking patience. And knew it was only going to get worse as this tween shit turned into teen bullshit. At least right now he could tell himself the kid was still a kid. But that didn't make getting treated that way – by your own kid that you're put blood, sweat and tears into raising – any fucking easier. Sometimes it almost made it more infuriating. Some times he felt like he was constantly having to check himself to not fucking lose his temper with the kid. To just go off on him. But Brian knew deep down that'd cause more fucking damage than any good it'd do. And that was going to have to be a line he'd need to tread carefully.

Like figuring out how to be a dad hadn't been enough of a fucking learning curve. He hadn't had a fucking example. He just knew what he didn't want to be. Knew what he did want to be. And he'd tried to put that into action. It was easy … enough … when the kids were real little. Then it was just about shit like … showing up. Playing with them. Putting food on the table. Tucking them in at night. Laundry. Cleaning. Cooking. Soccer, football, hockey, basketball. Bike rides. Pool and beach outings. Being able to carry them on his shoulders or arms out to grab them after that jump off the diving board or before the waves went crashing over their head. A push of the swing and a punt of the football. Holding the seat of their bike after the training wheels were off and they got their balance.

Now it was him who felt like the training wheels were rattling right off this rickety fucking attempt at fatherhood he'd been putting on for years. And he still hadn't fucking found his balance even though he could tell everything he'd been working at was getting close to falling away. And he had been really struggling with figuring out how to fix it. Or even just fucking balance everything out?

What the fuck did he know about being a dad to a tween? All he knew was he'd fucking wished he'd had a dad or older brother or something around back then to … fix shit for him. To take care of shit. To look out for him. Maybe if he had a lot of things would've been different. Would've been a different kind of teenager. Would've had a different kind of early adulthood – job path, career path, relationship path. Would've been a different kind of man. Likely.

He didn't know if he liked that idea or hated it. But knew he had to try to figure this shit out to be there for Ben in some kind of real way now. Knew that if he didn't figure it out soon that this next while – these couple years they had here – would likely define the kind of relationship they had when the kid was a teen. Would likely define the kind of teen Ben even was in some ways. And would ultimately overflow and impact the kind of relationship they had when this little boy got to adulthood too fucking quickly. The kind of relationship they'd have as men.

Brian knew he had to fix this. Because it wasn't just about his little buddy growing up. It was about losing his little buddy. This little buddy that he'd really hoped – had thought he'd been working toward – would be his buddy. Lifelong. Because Ben had stolen his heart just as much as Liv – even if it was in a different way. He was the love of his life too – even if it was in a different way that he hadn't even really fucking realized how any of that worked until Big Man and Ducky were there in his life. That Ben was as much his best friend as Liv was – even if that was in a different way too. And when he'd signed up for this – committed to going all in – losing the kids hadn't been part of the equation. He couldn't let this bullshit be the wedge that started that process of his boy slipping away from him. It wasn't going to work that way.

So he sucked it up. The pain. The anger. The fucking frustration. And worked again at his patience – not being a hot head. And he went and sat down next to Ben on steps of the back deck. They were damp too. Brian could feel the wet soaking through his jeans and into his bones already. Ben had been sitting out there for at least forty minutes. His ass would be soaked – cold and numb. Not good for his joints or just overall well-being. But it still didn't get a reaction out of the kid. Ben kept drawing. Acting like he wasn't there. No urgency to move, change, go in.

"Who's this?" Brian tried. Another shrug. But just nodded. "He got a story to go with him yet?"

"No," Ben allowed. There was a small edge to it but as much tone as it could be.

"Mmm …," Brian allowed and stared at the drawing. "He looks pretty upset. What's he got to be so upset about? Must be a story behind that?"

That did earn a little glance. Ben actually found his eyes – however briefly. But again the only response he got was another shrug.

Brian allowed another sound of acknowledgement. The look had probably said a lot more than the kid thought. He tapped at the side of the page a bit. It was enough to get Ben to adjust himself a little. Move like this fraction of an inch away from him.

"You think he's screaming or like roaring real good in that picture?" Brian asked.

"I dunno," Ben said quietly.

"Mmm …," Brian allowed. "Yea, you know I only so much about art and the whole artistic process, but seems like the sort of thing the artist might know."

"It's just a drawing …," Ben said. There was a small edge to that too.

"Kind of looks to me like maybe he's real frustrated," Brian offered. "So maybe it's a bit of both. A roar and a scream. Know sometimes I feel like doing both when I'm frustrated."

"You just yell," Ben said.

Brian kept his head tilted and stared at the kid. But the kid didn't look at him.

Brian finally gave a bit of a nod. "Yea, you're right, Kiddo. Sometimes I do. Try not to. But sometimes, you're right. That's how it comes out. Guess maybe a yell is kind of like a roar and scream combined. Maybe? You think?"

"I dunno," Ben said. "Doesn't matter. It's just a cartoon."

"OK," Brian allowed. "He's pretty good. Could definitely see him being a character in like a comic. Or cartoon, like ya said. He a monster?"

"An alien," Ben said.

"Mmm …," Brian allowed and looked more at the picture and then at his kid. "That's interesting."

"What is?" Ben asked.

"That he's an alien," Brian said and stared at the side of his kid's head more. "Know sometimes we sort of draw stuff we're feeling. Like if we're so frustrated or angry or sad that we want to scream or roar or yell. If we're feeling like we don't fit in, feeling kind of alien."

Ben cast him a look at that. It was annoyed. "He's an alien like the Men in Black ride," he said. "The one I shot in the head."

Brian just looked at him. They kept eyes. He didn't like that comment. But he scrubbed at his face a bit.

"Yea, we haven't watched that flick yet, have we ...," he said – trying to deescalate this. "Maybe we should. It's funny."

"It's old," Ben said. Tone there.

"Likely still holds up," Brian offered. It got nothing. "Mean, watching a movie inside where it's warm sounds pretty good to me. Sitting here five minutes and starting to feel like I'm freezing my nuts off, Big Man."

That got a shrug.

"You're not cold?" Brian put to him directly.

Another shrug.

Brian sighed a bit – and bit on his tongue a bit more. Making sure he gave himself some pause. And then he just scrubbed a bit at his face and looked at the kid working on that picture some more.

"Your mom and I were talking," he tried. "Know our parent-teacher meetings at your and Em's schools went pretty good this week. So we were thinking of going on a bit of a Lego outing this afternoon. Pick something out."

"Taylor says Lego is for kids," Ben said.

"You are a kid," Brian said.

"Not a little one," Ben contended.

"Yea, well, Big Man, I think we've both seen boxes that say like 14-plus and 16-plus," Brian said. "I don't think those sets are meant for little kids."

That got a shrug.

"So we're done with Lego because Taylor says so?" Brian put to him. Nothing. "That doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me."

Nothing. He stared at the kid.

"It's sounding like school might be shutdown for a week or two, Ben," Brian said. "Mom and I thought it might be nice to have a new set around the house to work on. Together."

Another shrug.

Brian sighed. That time he knew there was a bit of annoyance.

"Fortnite is for kids my age," Ben said.

"Not in our house, it isn't," Brian said – and he knew that had his own tone to it. It was Dad Tone. But he also knew that his own annoyance and frustration seeped into the even edge of it.

"Taylor's allowed," Ben said.

"You're not Taylor," Brian put back to him. "And the more I'm hearing about shit that goes on in Taylor's house the more I'm not loving that you're hanging around this kid."

And Ben just shifted again – away from him.

Brian sighed again and rubbed at his face – trying to calm and center himself. Trying to figure out this puzzle. How to get through to Ben. How to get over this fucking bump that it felt like this Taylor kid and his absent or lax parents had created.

He gave a glance behind him and saw Liv standing at the back door. She gave him a thin little smile that was probably supposed to be a smile of support. But it really just looked like a frown. And he must've frowned back because she bundled the sweater she had on around her more tightly and opened the door.

She stepped between him and Ben and went down a couple steps – her hand planted on Big Man's head for support like some kind of banister. It got a look from him. Him looking up at his Mom. And he got a more real smile as she took a seat down from them and put her hand on Ben's knee.

"You don't want to go out for Lego and Hygee House when Emmy gets home from gymnastics?" she put to their kid.

Brian saw the look Ben gave his mom. He hadn't included the pastry and chai latte in his presentation of the plan. The look on the kid's face almost said that might change everything. But then it didn't.

"Lego's for little kids, Mom," Ben gave to her too. But a little weaker.

Liv hummed some acknowledgement – like she actually believed that. Like they had any fucking evidence of that when they were still buying Lego blocks designed for architects for Jack. When their fucking 25-year-old still got a Lego set wrapped up at Christmas too so he didn't get over the kids' projects. When they'd been to Lego shows and conventions and museum exhibits at everything from the Guggenheim to the Hall of Science. When they saw more adults at any of these things than kids – with the possible exception of when they went to the Lego Discovery Center up in Westchester and you could only get in if you had a child in tow. Otherwise, Brian was sure it would've been swarmed with adults. As it was some of the building stations were overrun with the kids' parents and teen-aged siblings more than the grade school builders.

"OK," she allowed and patted his knee a bit. "Since you're getting to be a big kid, Benj. I think the three of us are going to have a bit of a grown-up conversation. Because Benji – how you're treating Daddy lately isn't very nice. And it's upsetting and hurting me as much as it is him."

Ben stared at her and then said as plain as day, "He keeps lying. That's not nice either."

And Liv shook her head. "Dad isn't lying, Benjamin. Yes, we have been talking around some things. Both of us, not just Dad."

"That's basically lying," Ben said.

"You're not wrong," Liv allowed. "But we were doing it because we weren't sure you were old enough to understand. But, you're in middle school now. You're growing up. So we're going to be really honest with you right now. OK? But – I want you to know some of this might be hard for you to understand. It might be confusing. But Daddy and I are right here – to answer your questions as best we can. And to remind you over and over and over again how much we both love you. OK?"

Brian gave her a look too. He felt a tightness in his chest and butterflies in his stomach in a way that he wasn't sure he'd felt since he'd been undercover. In those first days or those complex situations that you weren't sure you'd navigate out of. But Liv just locked eyes with him briefly and went back to looking at Big Man. She gripped a bit at his knee.

"I know you're starting to feel curious about who your biological father is – and where he is," she said slowly – slowly enough that Brian knew she was trying to find the words and that there was an element of pain to having to do that. "But, we can't answer that for you, Benji."

"'Cuz you don't want me to know. 'Cuz you're liars," Ben said.

"No," Brian spat with his own hurt and anger bubbling but Liv shot him a look that told him to calm down. And then looked back to their son.

"No, Little Fox," she said. "We can't tell you – because we don't know. Benj, we don't know who he is. So we can't tell you where he is or why he isn't a part of your life. We just don't know. We don't have those answers for you."

Liv kept holding at his knee and rubbing her thumb over it. Her and Brian both were looking at Ben – watching him try to process that and understand it. The confusion – and the hurt – that was mounting there became more and more apparent.

"That's not true," Ben finally said.

But Liv nodded and reached to take his drawing from his hand – he'd been strangling that marker even more. She put it off to the side and placed her hand in his grip instead – her squeezing his hand tight.

"It is true, sweetheart," she said.

He shook his head. "That doesn't even make sense," he said.

"What doesn't make sense about it?" she asked.

"You know who Emmy's real dad is," he pressed out with an edge of anger again.

"We do," Liv agreed. "We know who her biological father is," she corrected – trying to adjust the wording. This language they'd been trying to use around what made a family – or at least who made theirs.

"So you should know my dad," Ben argued back.

Liv shook her head. "We know who Ducky's biological father is because her biological mother was able to tell us, Benji."

Ben squinted at her. Confusion and then anger. "So then Peedg can tell you!" he pressed.

Liv shook her head again. "Jack doesn't know, sweetheart. I'm sure he would've told us if he did know."

"That doesn't make sense!" Ben spat harder and pulled his hand out of his mom's. "He just needs to say who her boyfriend or best friend was!"

Liv gave him a sad look and a little nod, adjusting on the step she was seated on again and held at his foot instead.

"Benji, you know how we've talked about there being different kinds of sex," she said.

"I know they had baby-making sex," Ben spat.

Liv nodded. "They did," Liv agreed. "But, Benj, sometimes people make a baby without planning to or meaning to."

He looked at her. And she squeezed his foot again.

"Technically, all sex where it includes a man putting his penis in the woman's vagina might make a baby. That's just how our bodies work. Even if the man and the woman aren't hoping to make a baby – they might."

Ben processed again. The quiet sat there. Brian could tell he still didn't understand – or didn't want to understand.

"That still doesn't make sense why you can't just tell me," Ben said.

Liv nodded and moved her hand to his knee again. "Sweetheart, I know we've talked to you about how sex is a way for two grown-ups who really care about each other to show each other just how special they are to each other. And we've talked about it that way with you – because as you grow up and start making more and more decisions about your life and your relationships we'd like you to think about sex that way. We want you to know it's something special for you to share with someone you trust and someone you care about and who makes you feel good about yourself."

Ben just stared at her.

"Big Man," Brian tried. "…" And then he found himself searching for words. "You know how Mom and I don't have baby-making sex …?" There was a barely discernible nod. "Well, Mom and me … have sex …"

Liv's other hand squeezed Brian's foot then as he stumbled around trying to figure out how to say this. "Daddy and I have sex not just as a special way to show we love each other. We have sex because it feels good. Lots of people – most of the time they're having sex, Benji, isn't about making babies or even entirely about showing someone you care about them. It's something that's pleasurable."

Ben stared again. His eyes darting a bit while he processed that. It was clear he wasn't letting himself connect the dots.

"Ben … what we're saying is that since … sex feels good … a lot of people when they're grown-ups decide to have sex just because it feels good. It's not because they care a lot about the person they're with," Brian said. "It's just … about—"

"Benji," Liv interrupted, she clearly wasn't loving his word choice. "From what Jack has been able to tell us, your mother didn't have a steady boyfriend or a best boy friend that she really cared about. But we know … your mother was having sex with more than one person."

His eyes darted again. "So why don't we just ask them?" he said.

Olivia sighed. And Brian shifted a bit to find his boy's eyes. "Ben, we know you were real little but sometimes it seems like maybe you remember a little bit about your mother and some of the things going on on that farm."

It got a tiny shrug. But his eyes got this vacant look in them before it came. Brian squeezed at his shoulders.

"Big Man, your biological mother she had some problems," he said, "and she made some choices that weren't very good. Your uncle's been able to tell us that there were lots of … men," he said.

That was a stretch. Ben was born when his mother was all of sixteen. It was likely a teen-aged boy that fathered Ben. Or maybe that's what they hoped. Though, the bits and pieces they heard over time they were acutely aware that in a best case scenario it was more likely some 20-something hayseed. There was the possibility it was far worse.

"Like … she had sex for fun with lots of people?" Ben finally asked. Or said.

Liv squeezed at his knee. "Yes, Benji. And there's … there's nothing wrong with having sex for pleasure and … trying it with more than one person—"

Ben stared at her. "Have you had sex for fun?"

She nodded. "Yes, Benji. I have."

"Not with Dad?"

She allowed a quiet amused smile. "Sweetheart, I have fun having sex with Dad. Daddy is probably the most fun I've had sex with – because I love him and trust him and he's very special to me. And all that's really important to find in your life – eventually. I want that for you. But, to find that most people are going to have to try a relationship – and sex – with other people. So, if you're asking if I've had sex with other people besides Daddy – Benji, yes I have."

His eyes darted uncomfortable and then fell on Brian. He allowed a nod.

"I've had sex with other people too," he told him flatly.

" … like porno?" Ben whispered.

Liv allowed a little smile and shook at his foot. "Benji, no. I've never had sex that's looked like a porno video. That's not real – even if it's real people. We talked about that."

"But my mom did?" he asked.

Liv sighed and shook her head. "Benji, I really don't—"

"The sounds the lady made …," he whispered. And his eyes glassed.

"OK," Liv said and moved, pushing herself up and wedging herself in next to Ben – pressing him between both her and Brian on the step. And she wrapped her arm around him, holding him. "Sweetheart, I know you've got some confusing and a little scary things buried somewhere in your memory," she whispered into his hair.

"They were hurting her," he crackled out.

Liv hushed into his hair. "Little Fox, I … I don't know what you heard on that video or what you heard when you were just a little boy. I can tell you, sweetheart, sex shouldn't hurt. Not you and not the person you're with. But, I know … I know you've got worries or concerns. And some of them, sweetheart, I can't answer. I'll keep trying my best to answer all the ones I can – if you keep talking to me and telling me what's upsetting you and confusing you.

"But I don't know what your mama was or wasn't doing, Benji. I don't know who she was doing it with. I do know when I adopted you we had to put a notice in all sorts of papers so your biological father could know that I wanted to be your mom. But if he saw them, Benji, he didn't call us and tell us who he was or how he felt about any of it. And, I know that hurts. But, Daddy and I both understand. We both grew up without Daddies. And we both really, really wanted you and your sister to have a chance to have a Daddy in your lives. So that's why it makes us both really sad when you tell us we're lying or you start being mean to Dad. It hurts both of us."

"Why didn't you just make me? And Emmy?" he whimpered a bit and pressed his face into her chest.

"Because that wasn't the plan the Night Sky had for any of us, Benj," she whispered into the crown of his head. And then she rested her cheek there and stared at Brian. Her eyes were glassing too.

He reached and found her hand and held it. And reached and squeezed his boy's shoulder with another.

"You know, Big Man, it's like your mom said … any guy and girl can end up making a baby. But … think about all the stuff that had to happen to make us a family. Your mom had to know your grandpa. And your grandpa had to raise Jack and talk to him about Ma. Jack had to remember that – her – after your grandpa and mother died. He had to find her. And it happened right at a time after your Ma and I had spent some time together again. And then made me wonder why she'd disappeared on me and for me to go looking for her and to meet you too. For you to be exactly what your Mom had been hoping for for so long. And getting your Ma and having a little boy of my own being what I'd been hoping for so long. For all those pieces to come together and line up? Big Man, that's a way bigger miracle than the biological imperative of some sperm making it up to an egg. Way bigger plans were at work for you."

"Daddy's right," Liv whispered into his hair. "Believe me. Trust him."


	15. Dinner Guest

**Title: Beauty in the Mundane Moments**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: A series of stand-alone, non-chronological ONE-SHOTS set in Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans, A Step At A Time, The Night Before AU. Olivia Benson navigates the job, parenthood and marriage while trying to find the difficult work-life-family balance that comes with being a cop.**

**PLEASE NOTE: These chapters are stand-alone SCENES or one-shots. This is not a chronological story and there is no purposeful continuity. It is just a collection of moments. Some will reflect random ideas or potentially fun, humorous, heavy scenes to write with these characters. Others will expand on a scene from an episode (past or present) or recast the way a scene went while imaging it in this AU. Others will take a kernel from an episode and use it as inspiration for how these characters might've interacted with it going forward. Wherever possible, a year, season number or episode name will be provided to give some context of the general timeframe of the scene — to provide some guidance on where the characters are at mentally/emotionally and the ages of the children.**

TIMEFRAME: Set in January 2020.

Please note: The Hank Voight (and his family and the other CPD characters referenced) are as explored and depicted in my CPD AU stories, which start with Interesting Dynamics, if you're interested.

Olivia opened the front door and offered Hank Voight a bit of a smile. She wouldn't say he smiled back. But Olivia also wouldn't say in the limited interactions she had with the Chicago sergeant she'd gotten much of an impression that he smiled. Though, she had caught a few glimpses of tugs at the sides of his mouth when she'd been in Chicago. But those little tugs had been reserved for his children – not much of anything else happening in front of him. Though, there'd perhaps been an almost moment when she'd gotten a smile from him when she'd complimented his city – and the unexpected beauty it did have with its lake views and varied architecture. But she also suspected that small moment had more to do with the whiskey he had in his hand and some memory her comment had stirred in him.

She understood, though. She knew that few people would feel Brian smiled much. Actually, she wouldn't be surprised if Erin Lindsey had reported back to her father exactly that – that Brian, as her boss, never looked very happy. But on that kind of job – working those kinds of cases – there was never much of an opportunity for smiles either.

Olivia knew that many people would probably say the same for her. She knew as a detective she had her moments of camaraderie and ribbing with the guys in the bullpen that had brought out jokes and wit and sarcasm and jabs and little pranks that would've caused her to crack a grin. That Elliot sometimes brought that out in her – or the 'gotcha' moments she had when she got the better of him did it too.

But since taking command of SVU the times she could smile on the job – find moments to joke – had become fewer and fewer. She doubted very much that new blood like Kat thought she was much of a happy person. Even Amanda likely questioned it at times. There just wasn't a time or place for it.

Her smiles – and jokes and silliness – was reserved for at home. With her kids. With Brian when he wasn't in one of his moods. And she wasn't in one of hers.

And this was home. This was social. Apparently. So maybe the least she could do was offer Hank Voight a smile. And maybe the least he could do was offer one back. But she wasn't sure that look on his face was anything near reciprocal.

"Hi, welcome," she offered still, and held the door, gesturing for him to come in.

"Hope I'm not landing on your doorstep too early," he said. It almost sounded like an apology – even if his tone didn't reflect it as one. But he stepped in and offered her a bottle of wine. So at least that was some kind of hospital concession, though she suspected that he'd gotten the wine from just around the corner and hadn't gone out of his way.

"Thank you," she said, pointing at the coat rack that was in their little foyer. If you could call it that. It was more like a closet you walked through before going out the door.

It was completely overflowing with the kids' winter gear at the moment – including four pairs of hockey skates and the shovel that Brian seemed to think someone would steal off their stoop if they left it outside.

Olivia was also acutely aware that based on the two times she'd set foot inside Hank Voight's Chicago home – it had looked nowhere near as chaotic. Though, she knew it was just him and his youngest son that lived in the house. And Ethan wasn't a small child. Though, she thought he couldn't have been too much older than Benji now back when she'd actually met him. And Benji certainly managed to leave a trail of breadcrumbs indicating his ever-presence in her life and in the house every day. Literally and figuratively.

Maybe things weren't quite as organized in Hank's home now that she knew he had a gaggle of grandchildren in his life. But maybe not. She'd gotten a bit of a sense that he was a definite neat-freak who liked things just a certain way.

Olivia wasn't sure she'd ever fit that mould. Even the parts of her that maybe previously had on some levels had all but given up on it after having two grade-school-aged children. Combined that with the kind of hours her and Brian kept. It all just yielded exhaustion. Keeping the house spotless – or even particularly tidy – wasn't worth it most days. She'd more than settled into living in a house that looked lived-in at that point. Organized chaos was about as good as it ever got around their home.

She was sure some people had cast judgements on them because of that. But it also wasn't like they had a parade of people through their house. Or much of a social life. Though, she was sure that some people who were in and out were surprised at just how bad they let it get sometimes. Sometimes she even surprised herself with just how bad she let it get sometimes. But most people reserved comment. Or their commentary was to start tidying or offering to help with cooking or the dishes or offering up babysitting services if they needed some time to do chores or errands without the kids underfoot. Sometimes Olivia took Brian's mom or Cragen and Eileen up on that. But she wouldn't say that she necessarily used the time to do chores or errands – so much as she did to have a few hours of silence in the house or to actually eat a real grown-up meal out that maybe included a drink at the bar or a nightcap in the process.

So she was just going to stick with organized chaos for Hank Voight too. Just like she was also going to stick with the fact she'd come in the door and changed into her Mom Uniform – jeans and a well-worn sleeved t-shirt. But she'd decided it was too cold in the house – because it always was. But she'd also been too in the midst of trying to organize her chaos that she hadn't ever actually gone upstairs to retrieve one of her sweaters. Instead (further illustrating the kind of week they'd been having), she'd just pulled on a hoodie that had been draped over the back of the sofa … for days. She wasn't even entirely sure if it was Brian's or Jack's – because as much as they hated to admit it neither of them differentiated that much in their affinity for over-sized, black, hooded sweatshirts.

Jack still brought enough of his laundry home – and left it like he thought he was being very covert in his avoidance of the Laundromat. The trick was on him that some of the items ultimately ended up claimed and worn and rewashed again before he dragged himself back over to Brooklyn to collect his folded laundry. She actually thought some of the black hoodies that had ended up on Brian's side of the closet were actually Jack's and they were just so similar that neither of them ever really noticed. Or were refused to acknowledge it – out of fear of actually acknowledging the two of them were not quite as different as they wanted to think at the best of times.

So this was it. Bared and raw. A typical weeknight in her home life. The only thing untypical was that they actually had dinner company – and who that company was. So Hank would just have take it for what it was worth. And pass whatever judgement he wanted – about what it meant about her as a person or a woman or a cop of a mother. Or what it meant to be a New Yorker. Or another one of these Manhattanites who ended up in a Brooklyn neighborhood like Carroll Gardens for her children's childhoods.

But what could he really want or expect? It wasn't like she'd known that morning she was going to have a dinner guest. Hank hadn't even told her he was in town.

Not that it sounded like he'd told Brian either. More that he'd just shown up. Though, she got the impression that maybe Brian had been given some hint that the appearance might be pending based on a text from Erin Lindsey. Olivia wasn't sure that that kind of drop-in would've prompted her to issue a dinner invite. But apparently Brian had decided that was the appropriate social norm. Brian was never the best judge of those kinds of things either.

Case-and-point – this unexpected dinner party that wasn't going to be much of a dinner party at all.

Brian would be getting an earful later. Especially since he'd organized this when he was already running late. So the text she'd gotten was one that brought her into the loop of what he'd just organized – by informing her she got to be the one who handled the rest of the organization, which meant making dinner.

So she'd been home all of twenty minutes at that point, which had pretty much consisted of walking in the door and just kicking the kids' junk out of the immediate living space. So what Hank Voight saw was what he got – and same with what he got served for dinner - and there wasn't much anyone could do about it. She wasn't feeling like – or being – much of a hostess. At least not with the most-est.

"Not at all," she said. That was a truth. But it was an absolute lie about his 'early' arrival. He couldn't have been late enough – in reality.

"Did you find the place OK?" she asked, though, glancing out the door. It didn't look like he had a rental car with him. Or at least hadn't snagged a spot in the immediate vicinity.

"Yea," he allowed, as he attempted to find a place to put his leather jacket before ultimately just settling to nearly throw it on top of everything else. Brian used that method too. "Nice little neighborhood here. Italian villlage?"

"Umm … it used to be," she agreed with a nod. She wasn't entirely sure what he might've seen that would've clued him into that. But there were still enough shops and cafes on the main streets in the area that screamed it. And they definitely had a few elderly neighbors on their block that more than screamed it. Though, she'd argue that most of her neighborhood – and neighbors – screamed young, upwardly mobile, high-paid 'elder' Millennial parents with strollers, toddlers and grade school children to the point that she almost cringed too.

He just made a sound of acknowledgement. "Not what I picture when thinking of New York," he said, removing his boots. "Feels a bit like home out there."

She allowed him a smile at that. She'd been very aware that his home had been just bordering Little Italy in his home city. His street had actually seemed like one of the last in the area that had older homes on it that hadn't entirely been absorbed by the condo projects she'd seen popping up around his city. She saw that happening in Brooklyn too. But Carroll Gardens seemed to be living in a nice little bubble for now. They'd see just how long that lasted. Hopefully until the kids were grown – and out of the house. And her and Brian could move back into the city.

Because "It's not exactly what I picture either," she agreed. "But it's worked out well for while the kids are little. Best of both worlds."

"Mmm …," he grunted. "You were in Manhattan, weren't you? How long you been this side of the river?"

"Ah …," Olivia rubbed at her eyebrow and did some mental math as she lead him into the house – trying to pinpoint how old the kids were when they made the move. "Just over four years."

He grunted again and gestured back to the door. "How's that work? This a duplex?"

"Technically," she allowed. "There's a garden apartment." He must've seen the lower entrance when he'd come up to their front door. "But Brian and I own the whole residence. We've just used this floor – the parlor and the upper bedrooms. We've tried a tenant downstairs," but she shrugged at that. "We don't have one down there right now. And we aren't looking at the moment."

"Mmm …," he acknowledged.

"We're picky," she said. "With the kids. And our jobs."

It got another sound that he was listening. But Olivia could tell he was more looking around the place.

She found a lot of people did that when they first came in. It was like somehow people still always expected something bigger when you said you had a house in Brooklyn. But it wasn't large. At all. Her and Brian had looked at condo and co-op options in Manhattan that had more square footage than what they'd ended up with here.

Their main floor that made up their living space was open and long and narrow. One space just meshed into the next with no real definition or dividing walls to give them any kind of separation or privacy or even to cut out or contain some of the noise and chaos of two small kids at home. The upstairs – the master bedroom took up the majority of the floor. Which was fine for her and Brian but left the kids with somewhat awkwardly shaped and cramped sleeping spaces.

The room they'd initially had Emmy in before putting the kids back in the same bedroom again for now was particularly oddly shaped. Olivia suspected previous owners had likely more used it as a storage space or walk-in closet than a bedroom. But for now it made a decent play space with just barely enough room for a pullout couch in there. She wasn't sure how it would do in the future when a teen-aged child and hopefully a study desk was rammed in there.

But those had been concessions they'd made. Instead they'd gotten the back garden. The garden apartment for additional space – or additional revenue – if they needed it. And it'd been about the public school opportunities in Brooklyn – in these zones. And the proximity to Janet and Cragen and Eileen for the extra afterschool and evening and weekend help with the kids they needed given their job descriptions.

And, she really did suppose it gave them the best of both worlds. Though, she didn't necessarily think growing up a Manhattan kid would've been all bad either. But it might've been a little much for Brian's sensibilities as a parent. She knew he was likely able to be more the kind of father he imagined himself – and the kind of father she needed him to be – under the guise of a Brooklynite. A Manhattanite might've proven too much for Brian – especially if Benji and Emmy turned into little New Yorkers (more so than they already really were).

It didn't really matter. This had very much become home for all of them. It had become what their family life looked like. And they'd made the space theirs. As dated as the building was – it had been near gutted and renovated when they had put in their offer. And it had been a steal for the area – one that they hoped would pay off if and when they were ready to sell on their own. They'd put their own work and flourishes into it since they'd moved in. The kitchen and the kids' current shared bedroom. The deck and patio stones out back and the multi-purpose garden boxes (that really ended up more as excavation dig sites, sandboxes and water/mud tables than anything that grew anything most years thus far). It paid off to have a grown child versed in drafting, architecture and urban design and a husband who refused to pay for anything that he so much as thought he could do himself.

She might never have her space featured in Architectural Digest. But Olivia did take a level of pride in the layout and design of her home. It's just with two kids growing up in the space – you couldn't always exactly see the work and thought that had been put into the various elements and angles and lumber types and counter top decisions and color palettes and fixtures that made it home. It was all buried under super heroes and Hot Wheels and Lego pieces and slime and Transformers and Ninja Turtles and My Little Pony and Fingerling pets and narwhals and picture books and dissection kits and art supplies and plastic insect toys and unicorn stuffies and at-home science kits.

"Can I pour you a glass of this?" she asked of the wine as they moved toward the kitchen at the far end of their main floor. She might need one to get through this. Some nights she needed it just to get through being a Mom.

He held up his hand to decline. "Nah, nah. No thanks. Maybe a bit later."

"Water? Or coffee? We aren't really a soda or juice family," she said. "Brian might have some beer in the fridge. But I'm warning you he's gone gluten-free so no guarantees on how this 'beer' tastes."

Hank allowed slightly amused sound but shook his head. "I'm good," he said.

She could tell he was more still taking in their house. Giving it an investigator's scan and collecting information about her and her family. She knew she did that when she was in his house too – in any home she hadn't been in before really.

But she only nodded and put the wine on the counter. She could see Benji giving them a shy look as they got closer to where he was working at the dining table.

"And, you remember Benji," she said with a gesture at her son, who was visibly looking about excited by this dinner engagement as she felt.

"Sure," Hank allowed. "Hey, Kiddo. Thanks for letting me join you for a bite."

Benji just looked at him and then glanced back over at Olivia.

"Benj, this is Hank, Sergeant Voight - Erin's dad. Remember Erin from Daddy's work? She came over for dinner a few times a couple years ago."

Benji looked like he was thinking about that. Olivia wasn't sure if he didn't remember or if he was just playing shy. More than likely it was a bit of both.

"We had a barbecue lunch at Hank's house the summer when we went to visit Jack while he was working in Chicago," she tried, though that was asking him to think even further back.

"Erin was the girl with the big belly," Benji finally offered.

Hank made another amused sound at that. But it was real. "Probably about right."

Olivia gave her son a bit of a disapproving look, though. "Erin was pregnant, Benj."

"With twins," Hank added. "Babies were taking up a lot of real estate in there." Olivia allowed him a smile. "But my girl's got a bit of an appetite too. Not one to turn down a meal. So could be right about that belly."

Olivia smiled a bit at that comment. But Benji just gave the man another little glance. And didn't respond.

"OK, then," Olivia said and moved over to where Benji was working.

But she sighed as she looked down and saw he'd been drawing rather than working on the math sheet she'd asked him to start while she changed and swept the living room and tried to find something they could feed company as dinner.

But she knew her little boy was tired and down. He always was by the time they hit Thursday. Then on the days she had to pull him out of school early to go in for the rigmarole that was his lab work, he usually looked like he was ready to crawl into bed by the time they got home. But Brian clearly hadn't considered that when he'd opened his mouth either. That was Brian. Years later – and sometimes he still just didn't know when to shut his mouth.

Still she brushed at her little boy's forehead. He definitely hadn't picked up and started mimicking that trait from his Daddy. As much as Benji could babble and try his best at tween talk-back, he also knew how to play shy almost too well – especially when he was exhausted. So she just planted a light kiss there as he looked up to her. And then she started to close and gather his schoolwork off the table.

"Tidy this up and then go change and wash up," she said.

"Jammies?" he whispered at her – almost pleadingly but with a touch of embarassment.

"Why don't you ask Sergeant Voight if he cares if you eat dinner in your pyjamas?" she put to him.

Benji gave her a little sigh and gave Hank another shy, uncomfortable glance. But Hank only shrugged at him.

"No skin off my back," he said.

So she nudged Benji a bit. "Go …," she encouraged. "Quiet time upstairs until dinner."

Benji slid out of his seat and very nearly – and very cautiously – almost snuck by Hank, who seemed to notice and gave him plenty of space. Olivia listened until she heard his socked feet nearly at the top of the stairs.

"Sorry," she allowed, as she moved back into the kitchen, grabbing a magnet to place Benji's latest drawing on the fridge. A winged, unicorn zebra with fangs battling a fire-breathing three-headed snake? There had to be some kind of messaging there, but she wasn't sure she really wanted to know. She'd go with maybe it was just a drawing for his sister – and hopefully not one based on some kind of bicker they'd had going on before and he was trying to get another reaction out of Emmy. "He's always cautious around adult men he's not familiar with."

"Mmm," Hank acknowledged – but she could tell he'd clocked that and was considering it. "He's getting big," was the next thing that came out of his mouth. And she knew that was a bit of a lie. Though, maybe not so much since the last time Hank had seen him – which had been years ago. But compared to the rest of the kids in his class – and school – her son was among the smallest and wasn't showing any signs of even catching up to the most average among the student body. "Spitting image of his pops."

Olivia offered a slight smile. "We hear that a lot," she acknowledged. She wasn't sure there were as many features as people thought. It was the fair skin and comparing Benji's strawberry-tinged hair against the bits of auburn that still existed in Brian's hair.

"Remember your little girl took right after Mom," he said like he maybe thought he'd hit a sore spot.

Olivia only shrugged, as she got back to trying to finish what she'd started in the kitchen. "We hear that too," she said.

"Think she was still it diapers last time I saw her," Hank offered.

"Mmm …" Olivia allowed and the oven a quick check. He was getting a sheet pan dinner that likely wasn't so different than what she would've been serving on a Thursday night to her kids. And Brian better not make a comment or a face about that being what was being served company on the amount of notice she was getting.

"Likely," she agreed after determining that everything looked like it was still going to be edible. "Emily's six now – almost seven, going on at least seventeen. She's a force of nature."

"Can't say I'm surprised having met Mom," Hank said.

She allowed him a thin smile but examined the stove top for a long moment.

"There something I can help you out with in the kitchen," Hank offered.

"Ahh, no," Olivia said shaking her head out of it and gave him another thin smile and just gestured at the oven. "I was just deciding if I was going to cook some rice. Emmy's decided to become a bit of a picky eater lately. It's a …" she sighed and shook her head. "Attention seeking thing."

Clearly it was because Emmy thought her brother was getting too much attention and too much catering too. And it wasn't exactly that Emmy was wrong. It was a hard balance with two children – and one who was chronically ill and had learning challenges and social challenges and trauma all combined with dietary restrictions that all affected the whole family. So Emmy had decided refusing to eat pretty much anything on the table that was clearly made because of Benji by indicating she wasn't going to even think about eating it. And her and Brian hadn't quite figured out how to deal with that. Saying they weren't a restaurant only worked so well – when they were catering to one child all the time and not the other. It was unfair. For everyone.

"So I was thinking of ways to save you from the dinner and a show of our usual mealtime battles," was all Olivia provided to Hank, though.

But Hank just made another sound of acknowledgement that bordered on amused. "Think I'm used to that show. Got a grandson who thinks the only two food groups in existence are hot dogs and potato chips. Can't say Popa agrees with him so much on that when I've got the family sitting down to Sunday dinner."

Olivia smiled. "That sounds like quite the battle of the wills."

"Yea," Hank gave. "But I'll give you a wild guess on who ultimately wins."

That got a real smile. She wasn't sure she believed that Hank Voight would let a preschooler win. But she also might've thought she wouldn't be that kind of pushover either. Children, however, had made her realize that there were some nights – days, weeks, or months – were certain battles were just not worth fighting.

So she went to the cupboard. "Then I think I'll try to save you from our version of that dinner theater."

She pulled down the rice cooker and started measuring out the rice and water to get it going. It might be ready in time for dinner. And if not, it likely would be ready by the time Emmy decided she wasn't going to eat dinner but was still hungry and was going to throw a fit about having not had anything to eat.

"Didn't mean to put you out," Hank offered as she did her measuring. "Or roll in here before the guy issuing the invite got home."

She gave her head a little shake. "It's OK," she lied a little again. "Brian just got caught up in something at the end of the day. So he got assigned picking up Emmy from her after-school program too." She gave her watch a glance. "They should be home soon." It was actually more like thirty minutes. "I'm just sorry we aren't a bit more exciting or organized. I could've taken you out for a real meal in the city."

Hank made a dismissive gesture at that but accepted the glass of water her offered across the island counter. "Nah, this is fine. Not much for doing the tourist thing. Just appreciate a place to put in the time and put my feet up a bit before being screwed around at the airport for hours."

He started to wander back down the long space a bit – into the living area with the couch. But Olivia saw that he was more hovering in front of the shelving units around their entertainment center. It was another favorite spot for guests to linger – and stare at the photographs and artwork that obstructed their overflowing collections of books and records and movies. Hard-copy media they rarely used anymore but hadn't been able to rid themselves of quite yet.

"What exactly were you in New York for, Hank? A case?" she asked. She hadn't heard of anything cross-jurisdictional landing in the city at any of the latest Com-Stat meetings but when Hank was Intelligence in CPD, she supposed depending on the nature of the case and what NYPD unit might be involved – that didn't mean anything. And she supposed she really only cared so much because she actually was more set on considering if bread or salad really needed to be added – when they had company as she waited for his answer. It still hadn't come when she'd instead just settled on starting to pull the place settings out of the cupboards.

"Just wanted to sit in on part of a trial," he said – obliquely. She watched him – but she could tell that was all she was going to get. "Erin asked me to swing by the DA Investigator's Office. Grad some sentimental paper weight that apparently a fuss got put up about putting it through the mail."

"Ah …," Olivia allowed, rubbing her eyebrow. Well that was vague – and odd – too. But she could also tell it was all she was going to get. "Did you find … it …?"

"Oh, yea," he said. And then nothing more. Maybe Brian would clarify what that was all about later.

"Got to watch your guy work a bit. In the box," Hank added.

Olivia hummed some acknowledgement. "Brian's a talented interrogator. He always has been. He has a way of connecting with certain people."

Hank had a sound, still working his way along the shelves of photos.

"He's really good with kids. The older ones. Teens, twenties. Street kids, working girls, escorts, junkies. You name it. They're his people …"

Sad but true. But she supposed you all had to find some population that you connected with – that you were able to empathize with and want to fight for – if you were going to survive on this job.

"Mmm," Hank acknowledged. "Could tell. He work Gangs before? Get a lot of kids there in Chicago."

Olivia nodded at that. "He was in Narcotics for years. Then he bounced through some special assignments. Undercover. For too long."

He made an acknowledgement sound at that – if not an entirely impressed one. "Know Erin feels like she learned some from him. The gig here. Good things to say about him, the job. For the most part. Still appreciate you were able to do that for her."

Olivia gave her head a little shake. "It wasn't a problem. Brian's always looking for solid, younger cops. He's had nothing but good things to say about her and the work ethic she brought to the unit. I'm sure he'd take her back in a heartbeat. He's got some empty desks that he's been having trouble getting filled."

Hank made a sound. "I'll let her know. But think she likes the babysitting services back home too much to take him up on that offer this time around."

Olivia shrugged at that. "Had to try …" she teased.

Hank allowed a little smile and gestured at the shelf. "Quite the book collection you got here. Looks like you've got some first editions."

"Umm … yeah," Olivia acknowledged a little surprised at that observation. "My mother was actually an English professor at Columbia. The Classics. I inherited a lot of her collection when she passed."

"Mmm," Hank allowed and gave her his own impressed – though some mocked snootiness there too, but Olivia was used to that too. There's assumptions made when you're a faculty brat at a school like Columbia – especially when there's not any other context offered up about your life.

"We've beefed it up with our own classics," Olivia deflected.

"Oh, yea," Hank said. "See the Harry Potter here. Wife had that on the shelves for the kids too."

Olivia made a sound of acknowledgement. "We haven't actually made it through all of them yet."

"No?" Hank said and gestured at a photo they had there of their family with Optimus Prime and Bumblebee. "That's Universal, isn't it? Thought whole point of that place was Harry Potter Land."

Olivia made an amused sound and shook her head. "Ah, we're the abnormal ones who went specifically to see the Transformers and Super Hero Island. The blasphemy of skipping the Wizarding World is regularly brought to our attention."

Hank grunted his own sound of amusement to that. "Erin and Halstead took Ethan years back. Jurassic Park and Harry Potter Land were their objectives."

Olivia smiled a little. "Did they have fun?"

"Oh, yeah," Hank muttered, still looking at their other photos. "Ethan is pretty set on getting to be the cool uncle that takes the kiddos down. Seems to think that should happen sooner than later. But is on about Star Wars Land now."

"Mmm," Olivia allowed. "So far we've managed to skip Star Wars. We're full on a Marvel family. Apparently. It's only been since starting middle school that Star Wars' existence seems to be starting to register with Benji."

Hank made his own sound of acknowledgement. "Managed to avoid it about that long too. Halstead who corrupted my kid. And went and started the twins young in on it. Or is trying to."

That got another smile from Olivia – imaging that.

"You planning on making another trip?"

Olivia shrugged a little. "It was an add-on," she said. "My former captain, he's like a grandfather to the kids. He and his partner have a condo on the Gulf coast. So I'm sure we'll be back down. I'm just not sure we'll do the theme parks again. The kids, on the other hand, are very sure we should go again."

"Surprise …" Hank muttered, but then gestured at another shelf, "You've been with your man longer than you let on."

Olivia knew the photo he was pointing too – everyone's favorite from pushing a quarter-century ago.

"We've known each other for … getting close to twenty-five years," she said.

He made an impressed sound and gave her a look – like that surprised him.

Olivia just poured herself a glass of wine at that point and started her own wander into the living space. She didn't care that maybe it was a little rude to start the bottle without Hank joining her – or anyone else for that matter. She thought she was going to need the drink to get through this dinner event.

"We both joined Special Victims Unit around the same time. Brian left after about a year and a half."

He gave her a look. "Think I got one who did that – and ended up here while she got her head on straight about the guy and the job."

Olivia allowed a smile and took a sip of her wine. Hank hadn't skimped on what he had purchased as a hostess gift. She appreciated that.

"Well, I don't think Brian or I had quite the same things to think about as Erin had to sort through," she allowed. She could see Hank was looking at a photo of Jack and likely doing some guesstimates and mental math surrounding his age.

"That your oldest?"

"It is," she allowed. She realized that Hank hadn't ever actually met Jack. She didn't think.

"How old is he now?"

"Twenty-six … just before Christmas," she allowed. "And finally done with his education."

"Mmm … doing architecture or something?"

"He did," Olivia acknowledged. "And urban design."

"Manage to get a job?"

She allowed a sort of nod that likely more than gave away she didn't love the answer she got to give to that question. "He did – right out of school – and hated it. So he's quit and started his second. So we'll see how that goes."

Hank gave her a look that even on his face could be classified as amused. But it almost betrayed he'd been there too. And knew the feeling.

"The last eighteen months or so with him has been … a bit of a rollercoaster," she provided.

Hank grunted agreement there. "My older two – both of them, about eighteen to twenty-four, twenty-five …" he shook his head. Olivia offered him a thin smile. There was a sadness to it, because she was acutely aware that Hank's oldest sound couldn't have been more than about twenty-six or twenty-seven when he'd died. When he'd been murdered. And she couldn't imagine … she didn't want to even try.

"You're supposed to tell me it gets better," Olivia teased slightly.

He gave her a look. "Sure, just hook him up with a gig in another city when it gets to the point you need a break from them. Take it while you can get it – because only so long before they're bringing home the next generation to drive you nuts."

"Ahh …," Olivia cocked her head a bit with a shake and another eyebrow rub, really cradling that glass now. "I'm hoping that's at least another four or five years down the road. Then at least one of their aunt and uncle will be a teenager …"

Hank allowed a small sound of amusement. She knew that his youngest must've only been … maybe twelve or thirteen? … when his first grandchild was born. God. That wasn't much older than Benji. And she couldn't imagine Benji being labelled an uncle – or her being labelled a Grandma. Though, she might actually be old enough for that. But it sure didn't feel like it when she had a six-year-old at home.

"He still with that girlfriend in Chicago?" Hank asked. But there was a bit of a jabbing tease to it, she knew.

"No," Olivia allowed with a firm headshake and another sip of wine. Relief. "That had a messy ending. But he has a new girlfriend now, who lives in the city. They just moved in together about a month ago. So we'll see how that goes …"

"Mmm …," Hank said and tapped his nail against the smiling photo of her and Brian again. "Hopefully about this good – even if there's a break."

Olivia shrugged. "If there's a break rather than a break-up – hopefully it's more along the lines of what Erin did – maybe minus the pregnancy with twins. But not quite the 12 year gap Brian and I went with."

"Looks like it worked out," Hank said. "Noticed you've got a ring on your finger now."

Olivia gave it a little glance. Sometimes she still forgot it was there. Other times she found herself staring at it.

But she only gave Hank a shrug. "It only took him about eight years to figure out the right way to ask," she said.

He made an amused noise and shook his head a bit. "How many times you make him get down on his knee?"

Olivia shook her head. "He did have enough sense to never try it that way."

Hank shook his head back at her and went back to gazing at the pictures. "What way finally worked?"

"Ah, him handing me the ring and saying he'd bought it and since it cost so much he'd prefer I get to wear it even if I still didn't want to marry him," Olivia said and then pointed into the kitchen. "There, bed-head, waiting for the coffeemaker, wearing bunny ears."

That got a grunt out of Hank. Amused.

"It was Easter morning," she clarified. Though, she thought leaving that punch line out almost made the story better.

"That's about as good as the L hitting a bump and me tossing the ring at my wife. Only took knocking her up to get to say 'yes' to that proposal."

"Oh, we were much more modern than that," Olivia dead-panned. "We focused on our careers while having repeated 'one-time-things' only to somehow end up adopting three kids in our forties and then take years to decide if we were going to co-parent we should maybe consider getting married, but only after I'd had my Over the Hill birthday."

It got a real amused look – straight-faced. "And I wondered what the hell Erin and Halstead were doing with their three years of playing house," Hank said.

Olivia shrugged. "Did it matter in the end? Seems to have worked out. Still got two grandbabies and a son-in-law out of it."

Hank made a noise that betrayed how he felt about that depended on the day.

"How are they all doing?" Olivia asked. "Erin? The babies?"

"They're good," he nodded and then shook his head. "Real good. Going concerns. All of them."

And his hand came out of his pocket with his phone. He flipped around a bit and then showed her a photo. She gazed at it and felt herself smile.

"You can flip through," he nodded at her.

So she took the phone and cycled through some of the recent photos. It looked like Chicago hadn't gotten much snow yet that year. A green Christmas. But by the looks of it, they'd had a nice one. In stark contrast to the one they'd spent in the hospital. The one they were all still bouncing back from – very slowly.

Hank Voight had a happy … not so little family. Even though Olivia knew he must feel the sting of the people who weren't in the photos. His wife and his oldest son.

"They're beautiful, Hank," she told him, though. Because they were. And not just those two babies. Though, she could see why Hank had made a comment about Benji's strawberry hair. The slightest tinges of red – the blondie-orange of their Goldilocks – of all three of his grandkids were apparent. There was definitely Irish in those kids. And clearly blonde in the Voight genetics. She could tell Hank was probably a blondie before he went grey. And she knew his youngest was – and his daughter (adopted or not – Olivia knew how that went with looks, funny how that worked sometimes).

"Yea," he said and leaned in a bit, pointing at the screen. "That's EJ and Mattie, Erin and Jay's kiddos."

"Oh, you can tell who their parents are," Olivia commented.

Hank grunted. "Yea, guess you can give them they managed to make some pretty good looking kids."

"The dimples on your little guy," she shook her head. The poor little boy was all blue glasses, making his ears stick out of his head. But it was offset and framed by just these cavernous dimples that seemed to make the mischievousness in those magnified eyes even more.

"Oh, yea," Hank nodded. "Eli's all his mom there. Dimples and eyes. And the piss and vinegar. Both of them. Look's wise, Halstead got his mini-me in Tilly girl."

"That hair," Olivia said, giving him a smile.

Hank shook his head a bit. "Erin won't let anyone touch a strand on their heads yet."

"Well," Olivia said, and raised her eyebrow at him, "those curls..."

It got another grunt. "Yea, my wife did the same thing with Magoo – Ethan. Had the Malibu shag too."

"Get that from Mom or Dad?" she asked – she was genuinely curious.

To her, Ethan looked a lot like his dad in the few times she met him. Just as much as he was almost unmistakeably Erin Lindsay's younger brother – to the point you wouldn't question they were blood-siblings. Or you would question the assertion they weren't. Or the further assertion that Ethan was Erin's baby brother and not just her baby. But that was dicey territory that Olivia had to navigate with her family too – in too many ways. Lineage and genetics and blood and family titles. And age gaps causing assumptions about who was who in the family and what lies or myths existed around that.

"Ahh …," Hank gave his head a shake and she could tell he'd gone back to something in his head for a long moment – one that took him a longer to pull out of. "I don't know. To me Magoo's all his Mom, especially when he was a little guy. Scissors weren't allowed near him until after his second birthday. Think the twins' mom's shooting for about the same."

"You must be getting close then," Olivia said. "They're getting big."

"Mmm," he grunted. "Nineteen months now. Busy, busy, busy. Got mom and dad hopping."

"And that's Henry?" she pointed at the other little boy.

"Yea," Hank said. "And his Mom, Olive. Henry's four. And a half."

Olivia shook her head a bit at that. "Wow," she muttered. She'd never had a chance meet Henry, though she'd seen pictures of him. The last of those he was just a baby. And the closest to meeting him had been his mom looking about ready to burst on that sweltering July Fourth they'd stopped in to cool down for a couple hours at Hank's place.

"And Ethan?" Olivia said. "He's … wow … growing up too."

Hank grunted. "Late bloomer with all his medical shit but puberty's hitting him the face now."

"He's …?"

"Sixteen," Hank said. "All about mechanical everything now. Can fucking fix anything. Cars, bikes. Computers. Every appliance in the house. Finally finding his sweet spot."

"You mean dinosaurs weren't his sweet spot?"

Hank made a little noise at that and scrubbed at his cheek a bit considering his son long and hard on the screen. There was a quiet sadness there too. Something more to it that got left unsaid.

"Don't think we'll ever be really done with the dinos," he conceded. "But at least he can hold a conversation that's about something that isn't Jurassic Park. He's got a girlfriend now. That helps. Opens to door to all kinds of other trouble but she's good at getting him to shut-up about the T-rexes so we can all get a bit of a breather."

Olivia smiled. It was funny to think of the awkward tween she'd met, who'd been excited about his upcoming Night at the Museum sleepover and his collector series dinosaur cards and water balloon wars, was now a teen-ager with a driver's licence fixing cars and dating a girl. But she supposed not to long in the future people would be saying the same thing about Benji. She still had similar thoughts about the teen-aged Jack versus the 26-year-old man he was now.

Time went fast. It seemed to go by faster when you suddenly had little people in your life to use as a measure of how quickly days turn to weeks turn to months to years – and there are these grown people with their own interests, personalities and skills right there in front of you. Changing and growing every day in the blink of an eye.

"Sophomore? Junior?" she asked.

"Junior," Hank said. "Got him out of the private school, switched him into the tech school just down the street from our place. Focused in on the STEM stuff, entrepreneurship, hands-on learning. Got all the shop classes and labs, co-ops." He shook his head. "Real turning point for him."

Olivia gave him a smile. "I'm glad to hear that," she shook her own head a bit. "We've had challenges with Benji's learning and health too. So it's just … nice to hear about another child finding his way through it."

Hank grunted. "Yea, Erin had mentioned after her trip up North with Cassidy that your boy's going through some stuff."

Olivia nodded, handing his phone back. "I'd thought about calling you. Some of the medications and treatments, reading about them, I kept seeing M.S. pop up too."

Another sound of acknowledgement. "Yea, all this autoimmune stuff. Seems like they take similar approaches," he said but gave her a shrug. "Don't know I've got any advice on any of it. The usual – day by day. It's going through the gauntlet. Trying the treatments. Finding the one that gets the kids the best quality life that they can tolerate too. And then just getting on with living and being prepared to fucking ride out the flares when they come up."

Olivia hummed her acknowledgement too. "We thought we'd been doing okay with that. We got through his induction into treatment – the first six months. He seemed to be coping. But we had quite the train wreck over the holidays. He was in the hospital for several days. He's – we're – still bouncing back from it," she said with a gesture up the stairs.

Hank nodded. "Yea. Something about the holidays. Loaded. We've done some hospital stays around then too."

Olivia rubbed at her eyebrow. "What about Eli? Cerebral palsy?" she asked – but it was strange saying that name. It jarred a bit. She almost wished she'd used EJ but that somehow felt like it might be a private, family name. "I can't imagine what they're going through managing that with a baby."

Hank sighed a little and shook his head. "You know … you wouldn't wish it on anyone. But least the kid's got parents who've got a clue on how to least start managing how to handle it. And least with him having it since birth here, it's what he's going to know. What Mattie knows. Just how her brother is. Don't know no different."

"And yet …," Olivia said. Because they both knew kids always knew they were different. And sometimes those difference just became more pronounced and harder to cope with the older they got.

Hank grunted and shrugged. "Guess don't entirely know how it's going to play out for him yet anyway. Looking like it might be considered 'mild'."

Olivia frowned a bit and exhaled. She wished she had something constructive to say or offer. But she didn't. She didn't know anyone ever would. It would just be left to his parents – and grandfather, and family – to figure out how to live with it. Just like anything else life threw at you and your child.

It was an uphill battle – and sometimes it seemed like some families had more boulders being tossed down the hill at them than others. As beautiful as Hank's family was in those pictures – she knew there was a lot of sadness and tragedy there. They weren't a picture perfect family at all.

And, she could relate to that too. She knew on the outside – in a lot of ways her and Brian had managed to make their little family look easy. A home in Carroll Gardens, a son and a daughter, senior level jobs with a pay cheque that allowed them to have a comfortable life with nearly anything their children could want or ask for. Weekend outings and summer getaways. Summer camps and sports teams and afternoons at the pool. Toys and building blocks and video game systems and all the arts and crafts and science supplies any kid could ask for. It was a good life. It was a much nicer childhoods than her or Brian could've ever even imagined. But they had their own challenges – sadness and tragedies. Frustrations and arguments and sleepless nights.

But even as she thought about – she heard the front door open and the clatter of Brian and Emmy coming in.

"Oop, there they are," Hank said to her, giving her a smile.

"Oh, boy …," she smiled at him a little too. She knew he was in for a show – and that show came roaring around the corner.

"MOMMY!" Emmy declared, sputtering to a stop next to her and Hank and looking back and forth a little confused. But then she shoved a scrunched up piece of art at Olivia. "I paint-it-ed you dis."

"Wow…," Olivia mouthed taking it and examining it carefully. "What is it, Little Duck?" She had absolutely no idea.

"A sno' day," Emmy said.

"Ahh …," Olivia said, nodding at it – like that made absolute sense. At least it maybe made the excessive amount of white paint on the blue construction paper almost seem like art.

"Dat dah house. Our house," she added with a firm jab on some smeared green under the white paint that was almost visible.

"It looks like a big storm hit the city," she offered, showing the 'painting' to Hank. He gave a thin smile at that.

"Jep," Emmy said. "IT A SNO' DAY!"

"Mmm …," Olivia acknowledged. "We haven't had any of those yet this term, have we?"

"No!" Emmy said. "And it not fair! I wanna go sled-in', Mommy."

"Well, that's pretty hard to do without snow, Little Duck," she said. She looked at Hank. "Have you gotten much snow in Chicago yet this winter?"

He gave his head a shake. "Nah. More like spring than the winters we're used to."

Olivia gave her daughter a shrug. "See, Em. It's not just us."

Her little girl gave Hank a bit of a squint.

"Emmy, honey, this is Hank. He's visiting us from Chicago. He's a police officer there."

Emmy pulled a pucker at him, considering that. But Hank just held out a hand. She considered that but then slapped her hand into it – more in a low-five than a handshake but Hank still gave her one loosey-goosey.

"Hi there," he said. "Nice to meet you again, Emily. Met before but you were about this big," he said and held his hands a couple feet apart.

Emmy just stared at that and then up at his face. "I was a baby," she said.

"You were," he allowed.

"You are Hank?" she asked.

"Yea, I am," she agreed.

"We buy you pie!" she said and went charging back into the entryway.

"Just a second," Olivia heard Brian say. "Let me carry it. You don't want to drop it."

"I won't dop it," Emmy protested and must've snagged it before Brian could retrieve it from what Olivia knew must be a bent position trying to unlace the boots he ended up cussing about nearly every day. She reappeared with a box and held it up at her – and then spun to hold it up at Hank. "It boo-berry."

"Mmm," Hank allowed. "Know how to pick'em."

Emmy smiled wide at that and spun back to Olivia, holding it up again. And, Olivia did take it that time, because she could see on the box that the pastry shop they'd stopped into wasn't exactly on the cheap eats end of thing. Apparently Brian felt their guest was special enough for this splurge.

He finally appeared. He looked frazzled and had a face that betrayed after the kids were in bed and Hank was dropped off at the airport, that he'd be needing to do a work debrief with her before he dived into trying to navigate whatever it was that had clobbered him at the end of the day. She knew that likely meant he'd be up most of the night – playing the politician that Brian hated being in figuring out how to word emails and phone calls that would go out in the morning.

"Hey," he nodded at Hank and then stepped and pressed a kiss against her temple. "Hey," he whispered near her ear as he moved away. She raised her eyebrows at Hank. But he only allowed a thin smile and turned a bit back to the bookspines and photoframes on the shelves.

"Got Big Man's favorite," Brian told her, tapping on the top of the box.

"Mmm …," she allowed. So that's what that was about. Not being there for Benji's first lab work since their flare adventures had calmed over the kids' Christmas break. Dad guilt. That wasn't entirely necessary. A blood draw – though an inconvenience that for a 10 minute affair throw a wrench in all their days – wasn't a big deal at this point in their child's health care journey. And it also didn't give them any information in the immediacy.

"How's he doing?" Brian asked.

She gave her head a little shake at that and nodded toward the stairs. "Exhausted."

Brian made a sound of acknowledgement and looked at Hank. "You find the place OK?"

Hank just gave a nod. "Not a problem."

Brian nodded back and then nodded at her. "Just going to check on him. Change," he said and shook at Emmy's shoulder. "Hey, you gonna wash up, Picasso?" Emmy looked at him confused. Brian only gave her a little smile. "Let's go check on Bubba."

Brian gave Olivia's hand a little squeeze and then stepped around them to head up the stairs, Emmy stomping up – counting each step at a time – after him.

Hank smiled at her. Olivia smiled back – a little embarrassed and shrugged. "Sorry," she offered. "We're just … it's a weekday. This is … us."

Hank shrugged right back. "That's fine. Got your dynamic."

And that they did. Better or worse. They were them. At least they were interesting.

**AUTHOR NOTE:**

**The Hank Voight (and his family and the other CPD characters referenced) are as explored and depicted in my CPD AU stories, which start with Interesting Dynamics, if you're interested.**

**Your readership, reviews and comments are appreciated.**

**This chapter may be reordered so the month's appear chronologically at a later date.**

**The story LOCKDOWN is also being intermittently updated at this time.**


	16. Best Capabilities

**Title: Beauty in the Mundane Moments**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: A series of stand-alone, non-chronological ONE-SHOTS set in Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans, A Step At A Time, The Night Before AU. Olivia Benson navigates the job, parenthood and marriage while trying to find the difficult work-life-family balance that comes with being a cop.**

**PLEASE NOTE: These chapters are stand-alone SCENES or one-shots. This is not a chronological story and there is no purposeful continuity. It is just a collection of moments. Some will reflect random ideas or potentially fun, humorous, heavy scenes to write with these characters. Others will expand on a scene from an episode (past or present) or recast the way a scene went while imaging it in this AU. Others will take a kernel from an episode and use it as inspiration for how these characters might've interacted with it going forward. Wherever possible, a year, season number or episode name will be provided to give some context of the general timeframe of the scene — to provide some guidance on where the characters are at mentally/emotionally and the ages of the children.**

TIMEFRAME: Set in early 2020. It would be set after the chapter UNREAL REALITIES and the chapters may later be reordered to reflect that.

Olivia shifted and moved her hand to stroke at Brian's cheek. She tilted her head so her cheek nudged against his chin of the opposite cheek and whispered gently into his ear, "Do you want to try something else?"

His head sagged a little more at that. His weight shifted do. She felt him sag a bit more onto his elbows and arms. Some more of his body pressing against her and settling her against the mattress. But, though his movements stalled – slowed – they didn't entirely stop. She could feel him still pressing against her – into her. But she also could tell he was no where near where he was trying to reach – not in body. And not in mind. She knew just as much that his head wasn't there. He wasn't in the moment. Or with her. And whatever headspace it was that he was in was going to make it near impossible for him to physical get to where he was trying to reach.

But Brian still tried again. His knees spread wider – and she spread her legs a bit more too – letting him have deeper access, more room to move. He tried to find a rhythm and depth. But it wasn't one of their comfortable, tried-and-true methods. It was just automatic motions. His frustration manifesting itself through a series of fast, unmeasured thrusts. Ones that didn't go too deep. Ones that didn't tease in any way. Ones that did nothing to acknowledge either of their sweet spots or angles. Ones that gave no hint of the skills lover Brian was when he was on his game. The ones that kept their sex life fun – and more incredibly enjoyable than she thought she could ever expect at this point in her life with the baggage and trauma she carried. But the trade-off for that enjoyment factor – was that they both had nights like this. Where none of it worked. And they had to stop and work on that.

So "Let's stop," she said.

And his head sagged again. Just like it always did when she was the one to call it. To put in the request or demand. To let him know she'd had enough. Or simply didn't want to be a participant anymore. But just like always – he did stop.

He moved away from her. But rather than the stance he took some times – flat on his back, staring at the ceiling – he was on his side and gazing at her almost apologetically. So she allowed him a thin smile and rolled up onto her side too to look at him.

Olivia went back to stroking at his cheek. She gave him some time to stop fuming at himself – whether it was frustration or embarrassment.

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked. Or more offered. Though she knew he'd shake his head slightly just like he did. So she just stroked her thumb across his eyebrow and traced his eye socket all the way down to his cheekbone – rather than the other places she could be brushing the slight ridges of her thumbprint across. But it wasn't often Brian wanted that touch. Or that when he did, he'd second-guess himself and move her hand away. As much as she very much knew – when Brian was in the right headspace and let himself get passed that mental block – she very much knew how to get her husband off. Rather quickly and easily – if he needed that to steady himself. But his call that night was that it would do more to unsteady him than bring him down.

He sighed a little at her and looked even more apologetic. "I can go down on you …"

She stroked around his orbital again and gave him a weak-like smile – that bordered on a frown – for that offer. And she mouthed a 'No' at him.

He exhaled as he continued to gaze at her. "Sometimes I think it was easier when we were just hooking up …," he rasped.

She gave him a small shrug and moved her hand to his bicep. Her thumb instead traced slowly around the lines of that tattoo she had never really grown any sort of affinity for. But that both her children adored and had endless questions about. She was pretty sure that some day when their daughter was some kind of biologist she'd proclaim her interest had all been started by the long-horn skull that her Daddy had up on their wall and forever etched into his arm – even though it was starting to discolor now – fading and green-ish. Not like the fresh ink he had on his forearm. Or the growing collection that Jack kept appearing with.

It wasn't a question if it was easier. It was and it wasn't. There hadn't been the context either of them had now. The relationship wasn't established enough for it to be there. The trust didn't exist in the same way. So when things were off – they were just off. Not like now – where she could read his body language. History and cues and knowledge. Where she was aware he'd actually let her pull his tank off him that night. That she'd wanted to touch and feel his skin that way. Under her hands and pressed against her in their togetherness. And he'd allowed her that. But she was now measuring how much it'd played a role in this now. Aware enough that she kept herself from letting her hand move to trace the lines his surgical scars played across his chest.

"Trade offs," she said.

The trade-offs of having a life partner. A husband. Someone else to parent with. For the kids to have a daddy in their lives. For her to have a friend like Brian – and the kind of connection that allowed them to have. Maybe the sex wasn't easier. But it was more intimate. It was special. That created a different kind of enjoyment – even if it required a different kind of effort too.

"At least it was more fun …," he said.

"I was having fun, Bri," she said. "It was really nice until I lost you there."

There was another exhale. His eyes drifting from hers. But there was an acknowledgement there.

It had been nice. Fun. It should've been easy. But maybe it'd been too slow. The foreplay had gone on so long the sex had very much been an afterthought. Though, Brian had very much been the one who'd moved them into that realm that particular night. But even then he still hadn't clearly been any kind of hurry. Olivia had settled into letting herself enjoy the sensation of being filled. The presence of him – there, inside her. She'd focused on the ongoing kissing. The feel of his lips and tongue and breath. The touching. The feel of his skin. The difference in angle – when they'd begun in a position not so unlike the side-to-side, face-to-face they'd settled back into now. Maybe they should've just stayed that way. Or maybe they'd stayed that way too long.

She'd known she wasn't going to orgasm. If she did it'd be after Brian that night. Either by his hand or hers. She'd been happy to just enjoy the closeness with him. The pleasure it was providing – even if it was a very slow build. Maybe they might've both gotten there. Eventually. It wasn't unheard of. They'd been there before in their slow, linger sessions where there was no hurry, no rush. No time limit. And it was different. It was this slow wave that lapped up and over her – spreading through her being. It was a release. And, though, it didn't shake her – it still penetrated her to her core in a different way.

Brian was the only man she'd truly had with – ever. Maybe it was the only relationship she'd been mature enough in or present enough or just comfortable enough in to have that. A that had taken her time to realize that it was those times that they were truly making love. That the release and wave she felt through her body in those moments was some sort of ingrained human chemistry that just solidified her attachment to him. That she didn't know if she loved the truly unique feeling of it more or the closeness she felt with Brian in those moments after. The closeness she knew he felt to. He was near ridiculously gentle with her in those moments. The way he touched at her face and looked at her. How he kissed at her and stared at her – that even in her 50s now, like he still saw that 29-year-old little more than a girl still, and like she was still as much physically everything he'd ever wanted or dreamed of, which she knew couldn't be true. But his attraction and love and connection seeped off him in those moments too. Nearly matched in how carefully he'd move against her to take his turn – and how quickly he seemed to be able to get there in those fluid moments where they shared that truly definable session of love-making.

But that night nether of them had gotten anywhere quickly. The slow build had plateau. And Olivia still wasn't sure what was entirely to blame. But she did know she'd detected a point where Brian's head was no longer there in the moment. He'd drifted. He was only going through the motions – and that had been doing nothing for her.

"Where'd you go?" she asked him directly.

He gazed at her with sad eyes again and just gave his head a little shake.

She rubbed her thumb back and forth. "Talk to me, Bri …" she tried. Encouraged? Begged just a little?

He sighed and stared. And she let him. Unmoving – beyond that thumb tracing back-and-forth across his skin.

"I don't know," he sighed out. "I just got lost in my head. The shit going on with Ben and the Taylor kid and the kid's asshat parents not calling us back. Playing avoidance. Dodging us. I'm just … fucking pissed."

"Me too," she acknowledged. But she knew there was more to it than that. There had to be. That, in itself, was unlikely to have gotten them where they were in that moment. If it had been, she doubted they would've gotten very far to begin with.

"I'm basically at the point that I'm ready to go fucking camp-out on their doorstep. You know?"

She allowed him a thin smile. "Let's not take that tactic quite yet."

Brian exhaled again and pressed the heel of his hand so heavily into his temple. "It's just, you know, if these kids are looking at porn, they're likely also making all kinds of noise about jerking off."

"Probably," Olivia acknowledged, reaching and bringing his hand away from its efforts to knock thoughts and memories from his head. She thought she could see where this was going know.

Brain stared at her. "And I feel like I should sit down with him or something. Say something to him. Because I don't want whatever the fuck it is that kid showed him or said to him to be like the introduction and gospel he has going into puberty. I don't want some fucking … I don't fucking know. I don't even know what he saw or what the kid said. But I don't want that to be his fucking guide book. You know?"

"I do," Olivia allowed. "And I think you having a conversation with him sounds like a good idea."

"Yea, but I don't know what the fuck to say to him, babe …"

"What do you think you want to say to him?" Olivia put back to him.

"I don't fucking know," Brian muttered but stared at her with sad eyes. So sad that his hand went back up to try to press his fingers into them – to stop the glass that was starting to sheet them.

Olivia reached again and pulled down his hand. "Stop …" she whispered at him.

He stared at her. The glass glistening there and Brian fighting to keep steady.

"It's just that my intro to porno and like realizing what my dick did is so fucking wrapped up in all my bullshit," he managed to get out.

"I know," Olivia said again and laced her fingers with his – holding his hand – to keep it from trying to hide himself from her.

"So I don't know how to talk to him about any of it," Brian said. "It's just that I know I don't want any of that to look that way for him. Like even remotely close. But every fucking time I try to figure out what to say to this 11-year-old kid about it. I don't fucking know. It feels wrong. Like I shouldn't be the one saying it. Or broaching it."

Olivia squeezed at his hand. "Brian, you are his father. You're the man in his life. You are allowed – you are supposed to – talk to him about how his body works and sex."

"I just still don't know how to fucking talk about any of that stuff," he said. "Not without fucking blushing."

Olivia smiled at him and stroked along his hairline with her free hand. "You do better than you think, Brian."

They stared at each other. "He already knows it feels nice to touch himself, Brian. We both know little boys figure that out very quickly. Think of it as a refresher course."

He exhaled. "It's different," he said. "We haven't framed it all up in the whole masturbation thing. And if this kid is talking about it around like jerking off and jizzing and cum and shit." Brian just shook his head.

Olivia moved her thumb around his forehead. "So we use real words with him. Explain it – again. So he understands what to expect. But, sweetheart, he hasn't even started puberty yet."

He looked at her like he was hurting again. "We don't know what these kids are saying or doing, Liv. They're looking at porn. Who knows what other shit they're trying out. Fucking … circle jerks. Rainbow parties."

She wanted to say Benji was a little young for all that. But sometimes she wondered. Sometimes things – even with middle schoolers – cropped up and smacked her in the face and she was still shocked that kids that young were as involved in any of that when cases and complaints and perps and victims ended up in her squadroom.

But what she said was: "Which is why he hasn't had playdates at their house and we don't do sleepovers."

"Pictures," Brian muttered. "All the fucking phones. Social media. Video. Tik Tok shit. Like at Erin Lindsay's kid brother. That shit is just there forever. You can never get it all down."

"We talk to our kids about that, Brian," she assured. "We'll have conversations about if and when they'll get a phone."

"Does it even fucking matter? Fucking iPods and iPads and tablets and the Playstation and TV. It's all fucking connected to the internet and YouTube and all the fucking apps. Even if they don't fucking have it every other kid around them does. It's just the next little asshat shooting something and then posting it. And then it's fucking out there."

"Where is this coming from, Brian?" she touched at his cheek again, bringing his eyes to hers.

He stared at her. "Thirty years, Liv. Coach Gary held onto that shit for thirty years. Fucking jerk-…."

And he faded out before the 'jerking off' came out. Before either of them again had to acknowledge how many photos of boys they'd found in Dolan's possession. That Brian's had been among them. That Olivia had made the ID of that particular boy long before the ID was officially signed off as as Brian.

But she'd known – even though she kept her mouth shut. Even though it'd shattered her – and scarred her – in its own way. To see this man – her man – as a twiggy, pale little boy stripped down to his underwear. That one pair had clearly been from a Batman Under Roo set – and she'd had another quiet realization of why they were a 'Marvel family'. His DC heroes hadn't been able to save him. Not from the poses. The staged ones and the ones with the back of his Under Roos pulled down. Or the ones she could only guess also belonged to Brian – but were clearly taken by a man who'd pulled open the front of the child's shorts and pointed the camera lens down it – before following up with his hand or mouth.

Pictures of a little boy that she usually say so proudly displayed all the way from his baby photos right up to his Police Academy graduation in his mother's cramped and cluttered apartment. But laid bare in those pictures, she saw again and through different eyes why – how – so often they heard that Benji was the spitting imaging of Brian. The pale skin and the strawberry blonde, sun-kissed hair and the freckles across his cheeks.

It made her ache. It made her ache more as so many of the pictures stuck together as the evidence was being collected and sorted through. Not from age – but from bodily fluids that forensics only came back with later. And Brian's again had not been spared from that. Nor had they ever been able to fully confirm if – or where – Dolan had uploaded any of the photos. There was definite evidence that some had been shared. If Brian's had been among them they hadn't discovered. Maybe they never would. Or maybe some other day – on some other case – something would creep up on them and slap them in the face again. And the reality that many, many more people than just Dolan had been looking at those photos – touching themselves as they did – for years would hit them in the face again.

Brian shook his head a bit and stared off beyond her. "He's likely seen some fucking porn-sized, giant, cut adult man hard-on. He shouldn't have had to see that." His voice cracked a bit. There was the glimpse of that little boy still in Brian in that crack – a glimpse that shimmered across his eyes. A little boy who'd seen his first adult penis in person and in a way no child ever should.

Olivia leaned forward and pressed her lips against his collarbone and then tilted his chin down until his eyes looked at her again. "And now he's going to have his dad assure him that everyone's body is different and he is made and portioned and growing up exactly the way he's supposed to be."

He stared. "I don't want him to end up as fucked up about this shit as me …"

"I know," she mouthed. "He won't be. And, Bri, you aren't as screwed up about any of it as you think. You're very capable."

"There's a rave review," he muttered.

She placed another kiss on his chin. "I like what you offer, Brian. Here. Now. Privately. And as a father."

Brian looked at her again. "What if he remembers shit, Liv? What if something happened that already has him all fucked up about all this shit?"

She sighed out a long exhale. "Then we … deal with it, Brian. We get him help. We talk to him. We support him. Just like we've always done."

But was it enough? Would it ever be enough? Maybe her and Brian both proved it never really was. But it was the best they could manage. They best they could do. And they would.


	17. Chapter 17

**Title: Beauty in the Mundane Moments**

**Author: ZombieJazz**

**Fandom: SVU**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them. Law&Order: Special Victims Unit and its characters belong to Dick Wolf. The character of Jack, Benji and Emmy have been created and developed for the sake of this AU series.**

**Summary: A series of stand-alone, non-chronological ONE-SHOTS set in Hello Goodbye, Welcome Home, Facing Forward, Best Laid Plans, A Step At A Time, The Night Before AU. Olivia Benson navigates the job, parenthood and marriage while trying to find the difficult work-life-family balance that comes with being a cop.**

**PLEASE NOTE: These chapters are stand-alone SCENES or one-shots. This is not a chronological story and there is no purposeful continuity. It is just a collection of moments. Some will reflect random ideas or potentially fun, humorous, heavy scenes to write with these characters. Others will expand on a scene from an episode (past or present) or recast the way a scene went while imaging it in this AU. Others will take a kernel from an episode and use it as inspiration for how these characters might've interacted with it going forward. Wherever possible, a year, season number or episode name will be provided to give some context of the general timeframe of the scene — to provide some guidance on where the characters are at mentally/emotionally and the ages of the children.**

TIMEFRAME: Set in early 2020. It would be set after the chapter UNREAL REALITIES and the chapters may later be reordered to reflect that.

Olivia shifted and moved her hand to stroke at Brian's cheek. She tilted her head so her cheek nudged against his chin of the opposite cheek and whispered gently into his ear, "Do you want to try something else?"

His head sagged a little more at that. His weight shifted do. She felt him sag a bit more onto his elbows and arms. Some more of his body pressing against her and settling her against the mattress. But, though his movements stalled – slowed – they didn't entirely stop. She could feel him still pressing against her – into her. But she also could tell he was no where near where he was trying to reach – not in body. And not in mind. She knew just as much that his head wasn't there. He wasn't in the moment. Or with her. And whatever headspace it was that he was in was going to make it near impossible for him to physical get to where he was trying to reach.

But Brian still tried again. His knees spread wider – and she spread her legs a bit more too – letting him have deeper access, more room to move. He tried to find a rhythm and depth. But it wasn't one of their comfortable, tried-and-true methods. It was just automatic motions. His frustration manifesting itself through a series of fast, unmeasured thrusts. Ones that didn't go too deep. Ones that didn't tease in any way. Ones that did nothing to acknowledge either of their sweet spots or angles. Ones that gave no hint of the skills lover Brian was when he was on his game. The ones that kept their sex life fun – and more incredibly enjoyable than she thought she could ever expect at this point in her life with the baggage and trauma she carried. But the trade-off for that enjoyment factor – was that they both had nights like this. Where none of it worked. And they had to stop and work on that.

So "Let's stop," she said.

And his head sagged again. Just like it always did when she was the one to call it. To put in the request or demand. To let him know she'd had enough. Or simply didn't want to be a participant anymore. But just like always – he did stop.

He moved away from her. But rather than the stance he took some times – flat on his back, staring at the ceiling – he was on his side and gazing at her almost apologetically. So she allowed him a thin smile and rolled up onto her side too to look at him.

Olivia went back to stroking at his cheek. She gave him some time to stop fuming at himself – whether it was frustration or embarrassment.

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked. Or more offered. Though she knew he'd shake his head slightly just like he did. So she just stroked her thumb across his eyebrow and traced his eye socket all the way down to his cheekbone – rather than the other places she could be brushing the slight ridges of her thumbprint across. But it wasn't often Brian wanted that touch. Or that when he did, he'd second-guess himself and move her hand away. As much as she very much knew – when Brian was in the right headspace and let himself get passed that mental block – she very much knew how to get her husband off. Rather quickly and easily – if he needed that to steady himself. But his call that night was that it would do more to unsteady him than bring him down.

He sighed a little at her and looked even more apologetic. "I can go down on you …"

She stroked around his orbital again and gave him a weak-like smile – that bordered on a frown – for that offer. And she mouthed a 'No' at him.

He exhaled as he continued to gaze at her. "Sometimes I think it was easier when we were just hooking up …," he rasped.

She gave him a small shrug and moved her hand to his bicep. Her thumb instead traced slowly around the lines of that tattoo she had never really grown any sort of affinity for. But that both her children adored and had endless questions about. She was pretty sure that some day when their daughter was some kind of biologist she'd proclaim her interest had all been started by the long-horn skull that her Daddy had up on their wall and forever etched into his arm – even though it was starting to discolor now – fading and green-ish. Not like the fresh ink he had on his forearm. Or the growing collection that Jack kept appearing with.

It wasn't a question if it was easier. It was and it wasn't. There hadn't been the context either of them had now. The relationship wasn't established enough for it to be there. The trust didn't exist in the same way. So when things were off – they were just off. Not like now – where she could read his body language. History and cues and knowledge. Where she was aware he'd actually let her pull his tank off him that night. That she'd wanted to touch and feel his skin that way. Under her hands and pressed against her in their togetherness. And he'd allowed her that. But she was now measuring how much it'd played a role in this now. Aware enough that she kept herself from letting her hand move to trace the lines his surgical scars played across his chest.

"Trade offs," she said.

The trade-offs of having a life partner. A husband. Someone else to parent with. For the kids to have a daddy in their lives. For her to have a friend like Brian – and the kind of connection that allowed them to have. Maybe the sex wasn't easier. But it was more intimate. It was special. That created a different kind of enjoyment – even if it required a different kind of effort too.

"At least it was more fun …," he said.

"I was having fun, Bri," she said. "It was really nice until I lost you there."

There was another exhale. His eyes drifting from hers. But there was an acknowledgement there.

It had been nice. Fun. It should've been easy. But maybe it'd been too slow. The foreplay had gone on so long the sex had very much been an afterthought. Though, Brian had very much been the one who'd moved them into that realm that particular night. But even then he still hadn't clearly been any kind of hurry. Olivia had settled into letting herself enjoy the sensation of being filled. The presence of him – there, inside her. She'd focused on the ongoing kissing. The feel of his lips and tongue and breath. The touching. The feel of his skin. The difference in angle – when they'd begun in a position not so unlike the side-to-side, face-to-face they'd settled back into now. Maybe they should've just stayed that way. Or maybe they'd stayed that way too long.

She'd known she wasn't going to orgasm. If she did it'd be after Brian that night. Either by his hand or hers. She'd been happy to just enjoy the closeness with him. The pleasure it was providing – even if it was a very slow build. Maybe they might've both gotten there. Eventually. It wasn't unheard of. They'd been there before in their slow, linger sessions where there was no hurry, no rush. No time limit. And it was different. It was this slow wave that lapped up and over her – spreading through her being. It was a release. And, though, it didn't shake her – it still penetrated her to her core in a different way.

Brian was the only man she'd truly had with – ever. Maybe it was the only relationship she'd been mature enough in or present enough or just comfortable enough in to have that. A that had taken her time to realize that it was those times that they were truly making love. That the release and wave she felt through her body in those moments was some sort of ingrained human chemistry that just solidified her attachment to him. That she didn't know if she loved the truly unique feeling of it more or the closeness she felt with Brian in those moments after. The closeness she knew he felt to. He was near ridiculously gentle with her in those moments. The way he touched at her face and looked at her. How he kissed at her and stared at her – that even in her 50s now, like he still saw that 29-year-old little more than a girl still, and like she was still as much physically everything he'd ever wanted or dreamed of, which she knew couldn't be true. But his attraction and love and connection seeped off him in those moments too. Nearly matched in how carefully he'd move against her to take his turn – and how quickly he seemed to be able to get there in those fluid moments where they shared that truly definable session of love-making.

But that night nether of them had gotten anywhere quickly. The slow build had plateau. And Olivia still wasn't sure what was entirely to blame. But she did know she'd detected a point where Brian's head was no longer there in the moment. He'd drifted. He was only going through the motions – and that had been doing nothing for her.

"Where'd you go?" she asked him directly.

He gazed at her with sad eyes again and just gave his head a little shake.

She rubbed her thumb back and forth. "Talk to me, Bri …" she tried. Encouraged? Begged just a little?

He sighed and stared. And she let him. Unmoving – beyond that thumb tracing back-and-forth across his skin.

"I don't know," he sighed out. "I just got lost in my head. The shit going on with Ben and the Taylor kid and the kid's asshat parents not calling us back. Playing avoidance. Dodging us. I'm just … fucking pissed."

"Me too," she acknowledged. But she knew there was more to it than that. There had to be. That, in itself, was unlikely to have gotten them where they were in that moment. If it had been, she doubted they would've gotten very far to begin with.

"I'm basically at the point that I'm ready to go fucking camp-out on their doorstep. You know?"

She allowed him a thin smile. "Let's not take that tactic quite yet."

Brian exhaled again and pressed the heel of his hand so heavily into his temple. "It's just, you know, if these kids are looking at porn, they're likely also making all kinds of noise about jerking off."

"Probably," Olivia acknowledged, reaching and bringing his hand away from its efforts to knock thoughts and memories from his head. She thought she could see where this was going know.

Brain stared at her. "And I feel like I should sit down with him or something. Say something to him. Because I don't want whatever the fuck it is that kid showed him or said to him to be like the introduction and gospel he has going into puberty. I don't want some fucking … I don't fucking know. I don't even know what he saw or what the kid said. But I don't want that to be his fucking guide book. You know?"

"I do," Olivia allowed. "And I think you having a conversation with him sounds like a good idea."

"Yea, but I don't know what the fuck to say to him, babe …"

"What do you think you want to say to him?" Olivia put back to him.

"I don't fucking know," Brian muttered but stared at her with sad eyes. So sad that his hand went back up to try to press his fingers into them – to stop the glass that was starting to sheet them.

Olivia reached again and pulled down his hand. "Stop …" she whispered at him.

He stared at her. The glass glistening there and Brian fighting to keep steady.

"It's just that my intro to porno and like realizing what my dick did is so fucking wrapped up in all my bullshit," he managed to get out.

"I know," Olivia said again and laced her fingers with his – holding his hand – to keep it from trying to hide himself from her.

"So I don't know how to talk to him about any of it," Brian said. "It's just that I know I don't want any of that to look that way for him. Like even remotely close. But every fucking time I try to figure out what to say to this 11-year-old kid about it. I don't fucking know. It feels wrong. Like I shouldn't be the one saying it. Or broaching it."

Olivia squeezed at his hand. "Brian, you are his father. You're the man in his life. You are allowed – you are supposed to – talk to him about how his body works and sex."

"I just still don't know how to fucking talk about any of that stuff," he said. "Not without fucking blushing."

Olivia smiled at him and stroked along his hairline with her free hand. "You do better than you think, Brian."

They stared at each other. "He already knows it feels nice to touch himself, Brian. We both know little boys figure that out very quickly. Think of it as a refresher course."

He exhaled. "It's different," he said. "We haven't framed it all up in the whole masturbation thing. And if this kid is talking about it around like jerking off and jizzing and cum and shit." Brian just shook his head.

Olivia moved her thumb around his forehead. "So we use real words with him. Explain it – again. So he understands what to expect. But, sweetheart, he hasn't even started puberty yet."

He looked at her like he was hurting again. "We don't know what these kids are saying or doing, Liv. They're looking at porn. Who knows what other shit they're trying out. Fucking … circle jerks. Rainbow parties."

She wanted to say Benji was a little young for all that. But sometimes she wondered. Sometimes things – even with middle schoolers – cropped up and smacked her in the face and she was still shocked that kids that young were as involved in any of that when cases and complaints and perps and victims ended up in her squadroom.

But what she said was: "Which is why he hasn't had playdates at their house and we don't do sleepovers."

"Pictures," Brian muttered. "All the fucking phones. Social media. Video. Tik Tok shit. Like at Erin Lindsay's kid brother. That shit is just there forever. You can never get it all down."

"We talk to our kids about that, Brian," she assured. "We'll have conversations about if and when they'll get a phone."

"Does it even fucking matter? Fucking iPods and iPads and tablets and the Playstation and TV. It's all fucking connected to the internet and YouTube and all the fucking apps. Even if they don't fucking have it every other kid around them does. It's just the next little asshat shooting something and then posting it. And then it's fucking out there."

"Where is this coming from, Brian?" she touched at his cheek again, bringing his eyes to hers.

He stared at her. "Thirty years, Liv. Coach Gary held onto that shit for thirty years. Fucking jerk-…."

And he faded out before the 'jerking off' came out. Before either of them again had to acknowledge how many photos of boys they'd found in Dolan's possession. That Brian's had been among them. That Olivia had made the ID of that particular boy long before the ID was officially signed off as as Brian.

But she'd known – even though she kept her mouth shut. Even though it'd shattered her – and scarred her – in its own way. To see this man – her man – as a twiggy, pale little boy stripped down to his underwear. That one pair had clearly been from a Batman Under Roo set – and she'd had another quiet realization of why they were a 'Marvel family'. His DC heroes hadn't been able to save him. Not from the poses. The staged ones and the ones with the back of his Under Roos pulled down. Or the ones she could only guess also belonged to Brian – but were clearly taken by a man who'd pulled open the front of the child's shorts and pointed the camera lens down it – before following up with his hand or mouth.

Pictures of a little boy that she usually say so proudly displayed all the way from his baby photos right up to his Police Academy graduation in his mother's cramped and cluttered apartment. But laid bare in those pictures, she saw again and through different eyes why – how – so often they heard that Benji was the spitting imaging of Brian. The pale skin and the strawberry blonde, sun-kissed hair and the freckles across his cheeks.

It made her ache. It made her ache more as so many of the pictures stuck together as the evidence was being collected and sorted through. Not from age – but from bodily fluids that forensics only came back with later. And Brian's again had not been spared from that. Nor had they ever been able to fully confirm if – or where – Dolan had uploaded any of the photos. There was definite evidence that some had been shared. If Brian's had been among them they hadn't discovered. Maybe they never would. Or maybe some other day – on some other case – something would creep up on them and slap them in the face again. And the reality that many, many more people than just Dolan had been looking at those photos – touching themselves as they did – for years would hit them in the face again.

Brian shook his head a bit and stared off beyond her. "He's likely seen some fucking porn-sized, giant, cut adult man hard-on. He shouldn't have had to see that." His voice cracked a bit. There was the glimpse of that little boy still in Brian in that crack – a glimpse that shimmered across his eyes. A little boy who'd seen his first adult penis in person and in a way no child ever should.

Olivia leaned forward and pressed her lips against his collarbone and then tilted his chin down until his eyes looked at her again. "And now he's going to have his dad assure him that everyone's body is different and he is made and portioned and growing up exactly the way he's supposed to be."

He stared. "I don't want him to end up as fucked up about this shit as me …"

"I know," she mouthed. "He won't be. And, Bri, you aren't as screwed up about any of it as you think. You're very capable."

"There's a rave review," he muttered.

She placed another kiss on his chin. "I like what you offer, Brian. Here. Now. Privately. And as a father."

Brian looked at her again. "What if he remembers shit, Liv? What if something happened that already has him all fucked up about all this shit?"

She sighed out a long exhale. "Then we … deal with it, Brian. We get him help. We talk to him. We support him. Just like we've always done."

But was it enough? Would it ever be enough? Maybe her and Brian both proved it never really was. But it was the best they could manage. They best they could do. And they would.


End file.
